


House Of The Rising Sun

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adultery, Angst, BDSM, Criminal Activities, Dark fiction, Dom/sub, Drama, Extreme Submission, F/M, Fluff, Knifeplay, Marking, Murder, Polygamy, Restraint, Sex, Sharing, Smut, dub con, extreme dub con, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-01-06 07:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 67,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18383531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, a detective eager to prove herself, is assigned her first undercover case working at a bar frequented by Sam and Dean Winchester, the sons of the wealthy Winchester Dynasty. Corporate billionaires involved in more shady dealings that can be counted, Y/N’s investigating a case of corporate fraud and embezzlement but what she uncovers is a much shadier world of murder and deception that might not let her out alive.





	1. Chapter 1

The case file was large enough that it needed two manilla envelopes to contain it. You must have read it six or seven times already and you knew you’d have it memorized by Monday morning. Once you’d met the lead on the case, you’d be on a train to New York City, undercover for the first time.

From the second you got on that train, Y/N Y/L/N would stop being a detective from Philadelphia and would be a heartbroken girl trying to find her way after she was kicked off the force for drugs and being dumped by her boyfriend. It was all part of the ruse, of course, although you thought you might be dangerously close to actually getting dumped.

Ben hadn’t been happy from the moment you’d been chosen for the case. They needed someone young, attractive, and eager for promotion. With the FBI working on the case alongside them, it had to be someone who scored high on their rigorous testing and honestly, you never thought you’d get picked. This was your chance to advance in your career.

You could be the one to bring down the Winchesters.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounded dreary - clearly he was still sulking. The short notice was unfair, he’d complained, because what if he’d had plans. You knew he didn’t but he still made a point of it.

“Do you wanna go out to dinner?”

“Nah.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes and leaning back in your chair. “Order in?”

“Whatever.”

Getting to your feet, you walked through the apartment into the living room, standing behind him as he half-heartedly played on his XBox. “I don’t wanna go away with you mad at me, Ben.”

“Then don’t go,” he replied simply, shrugging and not bothering to look back at you. 

“You know this is my big chance,” you muttered, walking around to sit on the couch next to him. Ben ignored you, continuing his game. “I do this and I could be in with a chance at the FBI. I could be a real agent. Like I always wanted.” He snorted, keeping his eyes on the television. “Ben, please -”

He dropped the controller, looking at you pointedly. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? Throw you a going away party? You might have to -” Ben swallowed, glancing away in discomfort. “I know what sort of things go on undercover. I know about the case, remember?”

You sighed, folding your hands in your lap. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Ben. And you know I’ll be careful.” You reached out, touching his hand softly. “I can come home on some weekends.”

“There’s no guarantee of that,” he muttered, pulling away. “What am I supposed to say to people?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, “they don’t need to know. If anyone asks, you say we’re fine.”

“What if it’s longer than eight weeks?”

“It won’t be. Our contact has already done most of the legwork. It’s just a case of getting the information we need and all I have to do is serve a few drinks and listen.” It sounded so simple, even you were struggling to believe it. You knew the element of danger involved when dealing with the Winchesters; not that you’d provided that information to Ben.

He pouted, fixing a pleading gaze on you. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll come home,” you promised, leaning in to kiss him, sensing his resolve fading. “And we still have two whole days to spend together.” Shifting closer, you slipped your hand into his lap, groping his crotch. “How about you give me a really good reason to come home?”

*****

It was ten minutes until you were due to meet the contact, a nurse who had been caught stealing from a hospital and in return for no jail time, she was providing intel from the men who had paid her to moonlight for them. The medication she’d stolen she claimed had been for them, and she’d agreed to be an informant to avoid prison.

You exited from the train at Grand Central Station, wandering through the crowds to the exit onto 42nd Street, waiting by the door. Looking around nervously, you waiting to see the face you’d only seen in photographs.

“Y/N!” a voice shouted and you froze, terrified that somehow you’d been spotted by someone you knew.

A woman emerged from the crowd, smiling and waving. “Hey, girl!” She approached and threw her arms around your bewildered form, hugging you tightly. “Act like you know me,” she hissed in your ear, “I’m Chrissy.”

“Hey!” you chirped, forcing a smile onto your face. “It’s good to see you.” You hugged her back, shuffling nervously when she pulled away. “So, where am I staying?”

“With me,” Chrissy replied. “C’mon, we’ll have to get a cab.” Without leaving room for argument, she tugged on your hand, pulling you along the sidewalk through the crowds of people. Sticking two fingers in her mouth, Chrissy whistled loudly and grinned when a yellow cab instantly pulled over. “In you go,” she ordered, opening the door and you blinked, taking a second to shake yourself before climbing in.

The cab pulled away from the curb as Chrissy got the door shut and she smiled.

“Sorry,” she offered, “I wanted to get off the street as quickly as possible. Hell’s Kitchen, dude.” The driver nodded at the instruction and Chrissy turned her attention back to you.

“Okay,” you smiled, “I take it you’ve been fully briefed -”

“Off the street doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to talk right now,” Chrissy interrupted. “Just wait until we get back to the apartment.”

You nodded stiffly, looking out of the window as the taxi drove toward Hell’s Kitchen. It was an uncomfortable silence and you jumped when the other woman suddenly told the guy to pull over. She pulled a few dollars from her purse and passed them to the driver before she gestured for you to get out of the car.

Waiting on the sidewalk as the cab pulled away, Chrissy turned to you. “Is that all the stuff you’ve got?” she asked, gesturing to the duffel bag you had slung over your shoulder.

“Yeah. I’ve got a little bit of money if I need clothes, toiletries or anything.”

Her eyes swept over you, her mouth pursing in disapproval. “Good. Because we definitely need to do something about your wardrobe. Didn’t they tell you to dress… to allure?” Raising one eyebrow, you shook your head and Chrissy smirked. “Damn, they really sent some goody-two-shoes up here, huh?” She shook her head, tutting. “You’re in for a ride.”

Taking your hand again, Chrissy pulled you along.

“C’mon, my apartment is this way. We can go clothes shopping later.”

*****

Chrissy’s apartment was a small two-bed with damp walls and a musty smell that clung to everything. There were six bolts on the door; a testament to the neighborhood she lived in and she apologized when you shivered and hugged yourself.

“Heat’s been out for a couple of days. It’ll be fixed tomorrow, or so the landlord says.” Picking up a key from the kitchen table, she handed it over and you took it, frowning. “So you can get in and out.” Gesturing to the hallway, Chrissy led you toward the second bedroom. “It’s small,” she commented, “but the bed is comfy and it’s quiet.” She paused, nibbling her bottom lip. “Ish.”

You looked around, moving over to the window and peering out. There was an alleyway below, filled with trash and a few cats digging through for rats and scraps. “You get much trouble round here?”

Chrissy shook her head. “Not so much. It’s all old people in this complex. The apartment was my grandma’s and the landlord is slow and lazy - as long as he gets his rent he’ll leave us alone, but you miss it and you’re out.”

“That why you stole the meds?” You turned to face her.

The other woman folded her arms across her chest. “Some of us didn’t start in such privileged circumstances. I put myself through school. Debt got too much. I was offered work, I wasn’t hurting anyone.”

“You don’t know that,” you pointed out. “But I get it, I do. Doesn’t mean I condone it.”

“I’m putting myself in danger doing this,” Chrissy replied, lifting her chin in defiance, “so can we drop the high and mighty act?” She sighed as you looked away. “Look, I’ll be honest with you, I knew what I was getting into but I was desperate.”

You nodded curtly, squaring your shoulders. “What you’re doing is helping to put some bad people behind bars, Chrissy. That’s a good thing, even if it took a bad thing for it to happen.”

Chrissy snorted. “I’m not looking for redemption. I’m looking to avoid jail. And you won’t be thanking me when we get to the club. There’s a reason I told them to send a woman.”

“They said it would be easier to get a woman hired,” you shrugged. “It’s not unusual.” A dry laugh was the answer and you frowned. “What?”

“Honey, if they’d sent a man, the Winchesters would sniff him out and string him up by his balls before he got anywhere. These guys aren’t just into dodgy politics and money laundering. There’s things going on that even your superiors don’t know about.” Chrissy leaned against the door, watching you carefully. “I told them it was bar work because they wouldn’t put anyone in the position you’re gonna be in.”

“What position? What are you talking about?”

With a sigh, Chrissy shook her head. “I tried to get you in on the lowest rung, just cleaning. But they wanted someone for the bar. Servings drinks, sitting with customers… and… well, there’s… there’s another part of the club. And that’s why we need to take you clothes shopping. You’re wearing too much.”

“It’s freezing out there,” you argued before pausing. “Wait… are you telling me it’s a brothel?”

“No,” Chrissy rushed out, shaking her head again and holding her hands out, “not a brothel. More of a club… a fetish club.” Your jaw dropped and Chrissy’s cheeks flushed red. “Now you see? If you wanna turn tail and run -”

“No,” you blurted out, surprising yourself. “No, I mean, I can work around it, right? I can… sit with men. I can flirt. Fetish clubs are where couples go, right? I’ve seen Fifty Shades.”

Chrissy gave you a look; your stomach churned uncomfortably.

“So the girls…”

“Are paid. Most of them are drug-addicts, some not.”

“Do you -”

“God, no,” Chrissy chuckled, “I’m just there to patch up when required.”

“So it'll be best to be in and out before they get a chance to… promote me?” you squeaked. “Because I - I mean, I have a boyfriend…”

“I’m giving you the out now, Y/N,” Chrissy interrupted. “New hires… they have to meet the bosses. Which means the Winchesters. And if they like you -”

“I’ll have to… but that would be rape.” You ground your teeth together. “They can’t force me.”

“Oh, honey.” The other woman stood straight, shaking her head sadly. “They won’t have to.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chrissy’s words haunted you during the entire shopping trip. The outfits that your companion chose were not your usual attire and looked uncomfortable as hell. Your thoughts were proven when you got back to the apartment and under Chrissy’s instruction, changed into one of the outfits.

High-heels were a no-no - you couldn’t walk in them for shit so you paired the outfit with a pair of boots that accentuated your legs without making you fall on your face.

Showing your legs was new, shaving them a chore you didn’t indulge in too often, but Chrissy had advised you to shave… everywhere.

When you emerged into the lounge, she whistled. “Oh, hell yeah. They’re gonna love you.”

“That’s… not the impression I wanna give off,” you murmured, covering your belly with your arms. The other woman approached you, pulling your arms away.

“Wow, ink?” she mumbled, tracing her thumb over your exposed hip, where the rose tattoo you had gotten in college on a dare was peeking above the denim shorts you wore. “That the only one?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve got an hour,” Chrissy announced, stepping back. “We better go over the do’s and don'ts.”

By the time it was time to leave, your stomach was a mess of butterflies and you felt like you couldn’t stop sweating, despite the chill in the air. Tugging your jacket around you, you followed Chrissy down to the front of the building, frowning when she started to move along the sidewalk.

“We’re walking?”

Chrissy nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets. “It’s only a couple blocks.”

You walked in silence until you reached a slightly less rundown part of town. There were very few people around and Chrissy kept going, not looking back as you hurried to keep up while keeping track of your surroundings.

You felt vulnerable already.

After four blocks, Chrissy slowed, coming to a stop by a door next to a tailor’s shop. A single gentleman stood at the door, wearing a flatcap and an earpiece, his scowl only matched by the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Hey, Benny,” Chrissy chirped. “I’ve brought my friend, the one I told you about?”

Benny glanced at you, raising one eyebrow. “Yeah, go on in, cher. Mistress Rhea is in the office.”

Chrissy smiled and beckoned you to follow her in; you paused, looking up at the gold lettering above the door that declared  _Private Mens Club_. You swallowed and kept moving, slipping past the burly man on the door.

The corridor beyond was dimly lit and you felt yourself growing more nervous with every step. Chrissy slowed a little as she approached a larger room with music playing.

“That’s the main bar. You won’t see much in there, just drinks and talking, the odd lap dance or… something.” She kept going, turning a corner where there were a set of doors. “These are the offices. You won’t come back here a lot except for Mistress Rhea’s office. She’s the manager.”

“Okay,” you murmured.

“Just… keep your mouth shut, do as you’re told, and maybe you’ll get out of here in one piece,” Chrissy warned.

Raising her fist, she knocked on the door three times in quick succession, waiting for the occupant of the room to welcome her in. When the quiet “ _come in_ ” came, Chrissy opened the door, smiling as she walked in. “Mistress Rhea? I’ve brought my friend, Y/N, the girl I told you about?”

Mistress Rhea looked up as Chrissy waved you inside; you stepped into the room, trying not to let your eyes go wide at the sight of the woman sat behind the huge oak desk. “Y/N,” she murmured, “the former cop who was caught selling drugs?”

“Selling, not taking,” you interrupted, “I’m not an addict.”

The woman sniffed. “Wouldn’t care if you were, sweetheart, as long as you don’t bring it into my establishment.” She stood up and you swallowed, averting your eyes. Mistress Rhea was dressed in leather from head to toe, her breasts pressed together in a tantalizing display encased in black. On her feet, wicked looking heels gave her several more inches of height and everything about her made you want to cower.

Stepping closer, Mistress Rhea peered down at you, a little smile curling her lips.

“What are you willing to do for money, Y/N?”

You spluttered, glancing at Chrissy nervously. “I don’t, I mean -” You swallowed, trying to gather yourself. “I’ve got a lot of debts to pay off, Mistress… er, Mistress Rhea?” When you weren’t corrected, you assumed that was the best way to address her. “I need work.”

The other woman tapped her chin, looking at Chrissy. “She can stay. You’re not needed tonight.”

“Um, Y/N’s staying with me. She doesn’t have her own place -”

“I’ll send her home in a cab,” Mistress Rhea dismissed and Chrissy went quiet, giving you a look of apology. “Don’t worry, Chrissy. We’ll take care of her.” Nodding slowly, Chrissy backed away and closed the door, leaving you alone.

Turning away, Mistress Rhea retook her seat, gesturing for you to sit opposite. You did as indicated, folding your hands in your lap and feeling very much like you were about to be scolded by a school headmistress. Your mind was running a mile a minute with thoughts of Ben, thoughts of the things Chrissy had implied occurred here.

She’d never come out and say it, but you knew you were going have to be unfaithful to get this job done and the guilt was eating you up.

“I’m assuming Chrissy has filled you in on what my girls do here,” the other woman said slowly and you nodded. “You’ll be paid well and we’ll only require you four nights a week. Now, we ask all of our girls to try anything once but,” she paused, looking up at you, “you are allowed to set hard limits.” She waved a perfectly manicured hand. “Are you clean?”

“Er,” you nodded warily, “yeah, I got tested a month ago.”

“It’s not unusual that some of our clients don’t like using condoms, but your health insurance is completely covered here. What about sexual history? Are you gay, bisexual, straight?”

Your cheeks felt like they were going to explode with the heat of your shame. “Bisexual,” you mumbled, “although I…  only recently came out of a relationship and it’s been… a while.”

Mistress Rhea nodded, not seeming very interested in the details. “So what are you good at?”

You blinked, unsure how to answer. “I’m sorry, Mistress Rhea, I don’t -”

“My name is Elle,” she corrected. “Mistress Rhea is my… stage name. Most of the girls call me Elle.” Another knock on the door made Elle look up and she called out for whoever it was to come in. You remained still, eyes facing forward and when the other woman got to her feet, smiling widely, you had to resist the urge to turn.

“Hey, Missy,” a deep voice, smooth as silk, made your need to turn even stronger. The door closed and you felt movement behind you. “Who’s this?”

“Our new hire,” Elle replied, walking around the desk as two tall men walked around either side of your chair. As their faces became visible, your stomach twisted in dismay. You weren’t anticipating this happening so soon.

These men were the Winchester brothers.

Why were they here?

“New hire, huh?” the other man said, lounging against the desk as Elle pressed herself against the taller man, giggling when his fingers trailed down her body. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Y/N,” you replied timidly.

He grinned, picking up a pencil from Elle’s desk and twirling it in his fingers. “I’m Dean. And that’s Sam. We’re the owners.”

“I was just in the middle of her interview,” Elle murmured, catching Sam’s bottom lip between her teeth. “I assumed you’d turn up at some point today.”

Sam chuckled, groping her ass in his huge hands, giving you a sideways look. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping the movement wasn’t too noticeable. “She’s pretty,” he complimented and Elle laughed, tapping his cheek. “Don’t let us stop you.”

Returning to her seat, Elle kept her eyes on Sam a moment longer. “I was just getting down to her talents.” She looked at you. “So what are you good at, Y/N? Sucking cock? Eating pussy?” She raised an eyebrow. “Anal?”

“Oh,” you sat back, deflating a little, “I’m, er, I guess -” You weren’t even sure how to answer. Ben had always said you were good at sucking cock, but you hadn’t exactly done a whole lot more than plain vanilla sex in the bedroom.

Guilt made you look at the floor.

Sam hummed under his breath, leaning against the far wall of the office. “I think she doesn’t know.” His eyes lit up. “Are you a virgin?”

“No,” you spluttered indignantly, shaking your head, “I’ve just… never done this before. For money, I mean.”

Dean glanced at Sam, his expression calculating and Sam grinned back as he caught on to the silent musing of his brother. “I guess she’ll need training,” Dean murmured, leaning over to Elle, “but you don’t have the time for that, right?”

“Training?” you whispered.

“I like her,” Sam said, moving a little closer, running one finger down your cheek to your collarbone. You shivered, looking up at him. Way up. “She’s all full of goodness.” You swallowed as Dean looked back at Elle.

“She’s a friend of Chrissy’s,” she informed him, a slight edge of warning to her voice.

“Relax,” Sam soothed, standing behind you with both hands on your shoulders, the weight of him more arousing than anything that had happened so far. “I’ve been looking for a new assistant.”

Elle frowned. “What happened to Amelia?”

Sam chuckled and Dean stood up, shaking his head. “She left town,” he grunted, implying something you didn’t want to understand. “You know we like quality in our girls, Elle. If she’s not experienced, she’s not gonna bring anyone in.”

You wanted to complain, to tell them you weren’t a sex object. A smaller part of you, probably too small, wanted to run home, back to Ben, back to the boring grind of suburban policing.

The part of you that you wanted to ignore was the loudest. The part that repeated Chrissy’s words, _they won’t have to_ , and knew she was entirely right. No wonder these men were dangerous. They oozed charm and confidence.

“What about you?” Dean asked, standing in front of you and looking down, forcing you to tilt your head back. You could feel Sam’s stomach against the back of your head, his long fingers splayed over your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing your throat softly.

It already felt like he owned you.

The tiny voice that yelled  _run_  grew quieter.

You thought about Ben as Dean’s fingers gripped your chin, lifting your head even more. “You wanna learn some lessons, pretty girl?”

 _Run_.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice emerging in a throaty rasp and you managed the tiniest of nods. “I want to learn.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What happened?”

Chrissy was waiting for you at the building entrance when you climbed out of the car Elle had sent you home in. You shrugged at her, sidling past toward the door. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t a lie. Nothing had happened.

“Then why are you back so soon?” she demanded.

You ignored her and carried on into the apartment block, still trying to process what had happened.

The encounter with the Winchesters had been brief and you had no idea what you’d gotten into. Well, you had  _ some _ idea and the images your mind was conjuring were definitely interesting. A little arousing.

A  _ lot _ arousing.

For a moment, when Dean had held your chin and forced you to look into his green eyes, you’d forgotten everything you were and everything you had; the feeling was one you wanted again. You felt like you were unravelling after just five minutes in their company.

Elle had taken over when they left, instructing you to return tomorrow morning. Training, whatever that might entail, would be your only task and Dean had told Elle to pay you upfront. Their interest in you was clearly sexual and you knew that if you were sensible, you would call the handler and arrange a pickup.

But then your career would be gone. Everything you worked for, taken away. You’d forever be labelled as a failure, unable to handle the slightest amount of intimidation in the field.

No, this was about proving yourself.

Ben didn’t need to know. It wasn’t you, not really. You were playing a part and if you played it convincingly enough, it would be the bust of the century.

“Y/N, you need to tell me what happened,” Chrissy urged, still on your tail as you moved through the apartment door. “Did they do something to you?”

“They didn’t do anything to me,” you sighed, closing the door when she was inside. “Elle showed me around and… I met the Winchesters.”

Chrissy froze on the spot, her jaw dropping. “Already?”

“I have to be back there for 10am tomorrow,” you mumbled, walking past the other woman toward your room, “and I’m kinda tired.” Chrissy grabbed your arm before you moved out of reach. “Let go,” you demanded, scowling at her.

“You know they’re dangerous, Y/N,” she whispered, sounding terrified. “I’ve seen it. They’re  _ not _ good men.”

You nodded, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “I know that. I’ve read the files.” Pulling your arm free, you stepped back out of range. “I’m going to sleep. Oh, er,” you grabbed for your jacket pocket, pulling out a roll of twenties, “Elle paid me upfront. Use it for rent, or whatever.”

Without waiting for an answer, you shoved the money into Chrissy’s hand and turned away, walking into your room without another thought. When the door was closed, you exhaled and listened, waiting for her to move away.

It took a few seconds but Chrissy’s confused mumble preceded her footsteps away from your door.

Your shoulders slumped and you crossed the room to the bed, throwing yourself down and replaying every word of the last few hours. Sam’s touch still lingered on your shoulders, almost like he’d branded you with his memory.

“You’re clearly not stupid,” Elle had murmured, watching you closely when the door had shut, “not if you’re a former detective.” She jerked her head up toward the door. “And they don’t take an interest in just any girl. You’re smart but you’re not very good at playing dumb.”

“I’ll be honest,” you replied, “I wasn’t sure what I was walking into. Chrissy told me it was barwork -”

“I think we both know you’re more capable than that.” With a sly smile, Elle got to her feet, walking around the desk and stopping in front of you. “How many men have you fucked, Y/N?”

Your cheeks felt hot as you tried to count. “Four?” you answered, shrugging. “I don’t keep a tally.”

She chuckled at that. “How many women?”

The answer to that one was much easier. “Two.”

Elle stepped closer and the blush in your cheeks spread to other regions. She reached forward, trailing her fingertips down your jaw, the edges of her nails whispering against your skin. “Which do you prefer?”

“I - I don’t,” you stuttered. She laughed, removing her hand and throwing her head back, entirely amused as your discomfort.

“Come on,” she instructed, standing straight and smiling at you, “I’ll show you around and we’ll figure out what to do with you when the Winchesters aren’t occupying your time.”

The establishment, as Elle referred to it, was larger than it seemed from the tiny door outside. There were sixteen girls working there, some of them already cleaning the bar in preparation for the usual opening hours. At first, it all looked very innocuous; plush lounge bar with the highest priced alcohol you’d ever seen and a dining area that could be hired out for executive parties.

Despite her frightening first impression, Elle was actually quite friendly. You remained polite and curious about everything, taking each bit of information and filing it away.

Of course, she left the best for last. “Now, I know Chrissy has implied what goes on here but do you know what a fetish club is, Y/N?” You swallowed, nodding and Elle laughed. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who would.”

“No,” you admitted, “I thought it would be a strip club. Or dirty or… something. But this is really nice.”

Elle smiled, placing her warm hand on your shoulder. “I think I know why the Winchesters are so interested in you,” she murmured before withdrawing her hand. “Let me show you to our private rooms. We cater to  _ all _ fetishes here, even the ones I’m not particularly into and well,” she chuckled, “there isn’t much I won’t do for money.”

“You work here too?”

“Darling, I’m what they call a  _ specialist _ . Men come from far and wide just so I can make them plead for mercy.” She opened a door to a corridor you hadn’t seen before. It was wide, plants and chaise lounges lining each wall and huge mirrors hanging above, taking up at least half of the deep red walls. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and you thought it looked more like a banquet hall than a corridor.

Elle strode forward, opening the first door. You shuffled toward her, peeking in.

“This is one of our more basic suites,” she explained, “mostly used by those who like a little bit of whipping and not much else.”

“W-whipping?”

She smiled and this time, you could see the glint of pleasure in her eyes at your shock. “Not your kink? I’m sure we’ve got something for you.”

You held your breath as she closed the door and headed for the next. This room was occupied - a girl in a sheer red lace babydoll and matching thong was cleaning a range of sex toys on the bed. Elle walked in, leaving the door open and you followed obediently.

“Marie,” Elle greeted, smiling at her. Marie smiled back, giving her a little wave. Up close, you could see bruises on the girl’s thighs and what looked like long red welts on her back through the lace. “This is Y/N.”

“New hire?” Marie asked, her voice bubbly.

Elle nodded. “I’m just giving her the tour. She won’t be working with you girls just yet.”

“I’m Marie,” she introduced herself, offering her hand before remembering she was holding a long curved dildo that was bigger than anything you’d ever seen. Marie giggled and dropped the toy onto the bed. “Oops, sorry. You get so used to having them in your hands, y’know?”

No. You most definitely did not know.

Smiling politely, you glanced at Elle who still looked entirely amused by the whole situation.

“Did you need anything, Mistress?” Marie asked and the other woman shook her head.

“No, you carry on, Marie. I’ll be out tonight so make sure none of the clients book in for me.”

“No problem, Mistress.” Marie curtsied and you tried not to look a little concerned as Elle led you away. The girl seemed brainwashed, or at the very least, not very bright.

Once the door was shut, Elle turned to you, smiling. “That’s how you play dumb, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you realized, “that was an act?”

Elle chuckled. “Marie’s speciality is being that bratty little eighteen year old. The one who’ll call you Daddy and beg you to spank her a little bit harder. All innocence and stupidity.” She gave you a pointed look. “Some men lap that up.”

You felt a little bit sick but you followed Elle down the hallway as she showed you room after room, each one progressively worse than the last. Half of the things she showed you looked like contraptions out of horror films and you prayed that none of your training took place in any of those rooms.

“Okay, they want you here for 10am tomorrow,” Elle had told you, as she assigned you a locker. “Wear black, matching underwear. Do you have any heels?”

“I can’t walk in them,” you confessed.

“Learn,” she ordered, “or they will teach you.”

And then she’d sent you home, instructing you to be thoroughly clean when you returned. You didn’t know exactly what she meant by that and you really didn’t want to ask Chrissy.

Turning on your side in the comfortable bed, you dragged the covers up over your entire body, unsure what tomorrow would bring.

*****

The next morning, you woke early, showering as thoroughly as you could. Selecting the only black dress you’d bought the previous afternoon, you dressed quickly and threw on a little makeup, keeping it light. Chrissy was up when you emerged into the kitchen, waiting with a cup of coffee for you.

“You getting a cab?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” you replied, picking up the cup and sipping it. “Should probably eat.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How did you sleep?”

“Surprisingly well,” you commented, “I guess I expected Hell’s Kitchen to be a little… rowdier.”

“Rowdier?” Chrissy repeated, smirking. “It can be. Monday night is usually quiet. Everyone’s recovering from the weekend.”

“Is that the same at the club?”

She hesitated, leaning back against the counter and hugging her cup with her hands. “No two nights are the same at the club. They only call me in on the… heavier nights.” It was obvious that she was choosing her words carefully and while you knew she was doing this to save her own skin, you also knew you couldn’t trust her.

“I better get going,” you mumbled, putting the half-finished coffee down and turning away. Picking up your jacket and purse, you didn’t spare Chrissy a second glance as you walked out of the apartment and jogged down the stairs.

New York was not familiar territory to you. You’d never been unaccompanied in the city before and everything was bigger than back home. The skyscrapers made you feel like an ant, much like the way Sam Winchester made you feel.

Shuddering, you tightened your grip on your purse and stepped to the curb, behind a large black sedan with dark windows. The door opened as you raised your arm to hail a cab and the driver stepped out. “Miss. Y/L/N,” he called, “we’re your ride today.”

You stopped, staring at him like he was holding a gun on you. “Er, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

The man walked around, opening the rear door onto the pavement. “I must insist, Miss. Y/L/N.” Gaping at him, you assessed your options, wondering if getting into that car would mean a grizzly end. “Please, miss,” the man tried again, obviously growing impatient with you.

“Cas, lay off,” a voice said from inside the car and you frowned, leaning to the side. Sam Winchester sat in the back of the large car, a charming smile on his face. “Get in the car, Y/N. It’s going to rain.”

You swallowed, slipping into the backseat with a quick glance around. Cas slammed the door shut and you were suddenly alone, in a quiet confined space, with one of the men you were supposed to be investigating.

Sam patted the seat. “I don’t bite,” he coaxed, his smile growing a little predatory, “not at first.”

A shudder journeyed down your spine and you scooted over on the seat, feeling the heat of his thigh against yours. “I wasn’t expecting a ride,” you murmured, staring intently at your nails.

“I was coming this way anyway. And I wanted to speak to you alone.”

That sounded ominous. You lifted your gaze to meet his, holding your breath at his closeness. “About what, Mr. Winchester?”

“Call me Sam,” he urged, placing one hand on your thigh. “You have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” You shook your head, feeling your lungs burn as his hand slid up your leg, under the hem of your dress. “Hmmm, I like that. You’re the perfect canvas.”

You weren’t sure if it was the way he said it or the warm fingers dancing across the fabric of your panties but everything in you wanted to climb him like a tree in that second. Sam pulled away as you leaned in, laughing at how easily he’d manipulated you.

“We’re nearly there,” Cas called from the front seat, reminding you with a jump that he was there. Your cheeks were heating up with shame and Sam sprawled back across the seat, the outline of his erection clear in his slacks. 

“You go in ahead,” he ordered, resting his elbow on the back of the seat, tapping his fingers against his chin. “Dean and I will see you in a little while.” The car came to a stop and Sam leaned forward, opening the door and pushing it wide. “See you soon, princess,” he murmured, offering you a hand to get out of the car.

You couldn’t get into the building quickly enough, rushing past Benny and only stopping when you were at the end of the corridor. The thought of what was to come had you sinking into the wall, trying not to collapse from the overwhelming arousal sweeping through you.

It took a few moments but you gathered yourself and stood straight, heading off in search of Elle.


	4. Chapter 4

An hour later, you found yourself alone, sat at the end of the bed in the first bedroom Elle had shown you the day before. She’d told you to take your shoes off and wait for the Winchesters but that had been fifteen minutes before and you were starting to wonder if they’d forgotten about you.

Dean arrived first, minutes ahead of his brother. He entered the room, sparing you a single glance when you stood before he stopped in front of the dresser, removing his jacket. Sam entered then, grinning at you and the memory of what happened in the car came rushing back, bringing your renewed arousal with it.

“Elle told you,” Dean started, “that we run a background check on anyone who walks through the door, right?”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. Everything about you online had been wiped, leaving only fragments of a party girl who made one too many mistakes. “Yeah,” you replied, supposing that he would want a verbal answer.

“We loved the photos from your freshman year,” Sam chuckled, removing his jacket and slinging it over a chair, rolling his sleeves up.

Dean glared at him. “You had a boyfriend until recently.”

“I did,” you admitted, trying to ignore the guilt at the lie. “He dumped me.”

Sam snorted. “His loss.”

“And you were a junior detective?” Dean continued, watching you in the mirror as he removed his tie and folded it neatly. You nodded, keeping eye contact. “Why’d you quit?”

“I was fired,” you replied. 

“Why?”

The lump in your throat grew. “I - I was selling cocaine from evidence to a guy I knew.”

Dean didn’t speak again, breaking the eye contact and turning to face you properly. Sam waited, letting his brother run the show. “When we talked about you being Sam’s personal assistant yesterday, did you understand what that would entail?”

“No,” you said honestly.

A smirk curled the younger brother’s lip and Dean stepped forward. “You say you’re not a virgin,” he murmured, coming close enough that you could smell the laundry detergent on his shirt, “but how experienced are you?”

“I don’t - I mean, I’ve had sex -”

“What positions?” Dean demanded and your knees shook with nerves. “Missionary? Doggy? Spooning?”

“The Alabama Slammer?” Sam quipped and you stared at him.

“I don’t know what that is,” you stuttered, shaking your head, feeling like the victim of some college hazing stunt. “I’ve, er, done missionary. And spooning. Doggy style… hurts too much.” Something in Sam’s eyes lit up at that and you shuddered internally.

Dean grimaced. “So we start slow. Do you know how to suck a cock?”

Wetness blossomed between your thighs and you squirmed. “Y-yes.”

“Dean,” Sam grunted, “this is boring.”

“Fucks sake, Sam,” Dean growled, “be patient. You go too fast, you’ll break her.”

“Isn’t that the idea?” Sam pointed out.

You looked between them, unsure of what to do or say. Dean swept his eyes over you. “Strip,” he commanded and you jolted in surprise. “Down to your underwear.”

It took a few seconds to force yourself into action; you quickly removed the black dress, standing before them in your panties and matching lace bra. The heat of both men staring at you had your nipples visibly pebbling underneath the fabric of your bra. Dean smiled, lifting his hand and cupping your left breast, rubbing his thumb over the hardened nub.

“You’re obedient,” he murmured, “I like that.” He kept moving his thumb and your breathing hitched in your throat. “What’s the dirtiest thing your boyfriend ever did to you?”

The pleasure was distracting and you struggled to find an answer. “I don’t,” you whispered, “I don’t know.”

“Think,” Dean urged, using his other hand to stimulate your other breast. “Did he ever fuck you in the ass?”

Another burst of heat flooded your core and your bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “No. He - he let me s -” God, you didn’t think you could say it out loud. The memory of that night was less than pleasant. “Suck his balls once.”

Sam sniggered and embarrassment made you want to run. “He  _ let _ you?” Dean admonished, scoffing. “Baby, I’d pay good money to have lips like yours wrapped around any part of me. Bet he didn’t even bother to shave did he?”

You shook your head, just about managing to keep your eyes open. Dean’s thumbs kept torturing your nipples; they were achingly hard now and it was all you could do to stop your knees from shaking. Your heartbeat pounded loudly in your ears and you tried to keep your breathing even, failing miserably.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” Dean teased, leaning in and brushing his lips over yours. “Would you like to cum?”

When you nodded, a part of you forgot why you were even there except to serve him.

He stopped touching you and you almost cried out, your whole body jerking with the loss like someone had cut your strings. Sam took Dean’s place as his brother moved away, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it over his jacket. “We’re going to play a game,” Sam said slowly, cupping your chin. “But we need to be clear on one thing. If you can’t take it, you tell us. We have a safeword.” He shared a look with Dean, who smirked. “Poughkeepsie.”

“Poughkeepsie?” you repeated, frowning. “What happens if I say it?”

“Everything stops,” Sam shrugged. “Otherwise, you do exactly what you’re told when you’re told.” He grinned, sliding his hand down to your throat, gripping it hard enough for you to feel the tightness. “You don’t know much about sex, do you, Y/N?”

“N - no,” you whispered.

Sam leaned in, kissing you roughly, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip with a demand for entry. You granted it easily, moaning against him. “I’m gonna show you so many things,” he promised, trailing his fingers down your cheek, “and you’re gonna beg for all of them.”

“Sam,” Dean barked, the warning in his tone clear, “that’s enough.”

The pressure was gone from your throat and it was everything you had not to collapse when he released you. Sam stepped back, licking his lips and flashing you a dangerous smirk as you tried to catch your breath.

“You’ll be here every morning at 10am,” Dean instructed, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “When we’re not here, you work with Elle, you do whatever admin she’s got.” He moved toward you, jerking his chin up. “Get on the bed, hands above your head.”

Sam was stripping down, with his back to you and you couldn’t help but stare as you moved to where Dean wanted you. There were scars on Sam’s back, some of them fresh-looking, but it didn’t take away from the almost statuesque form that he clearly worked hard on. His arms were thicker than your legs, defined with muscles and perfectly tanned.

“She definitely likes you,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes as you practically drooled over his brother.

“They always like me better,” Sam threw back, turning around and rubbing his hands together with a smirk. “Until they see the size of my cock.”

“That’s true,” Dean admitted, securing the handcuffs around your wrists before producing a strip of cloth from seemingly nowhere. “They usually scream then.” You gave him a worried look and he smirked. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let him hurt you too much.”

The fabric covered your eyes and panic made you tense. Dean secured the blindfold behind your head, stepping back. With your eyesight taken away, you felt powerless and your heart began to race out of control.

“She’s already tweaking,” Dean murmured. “Someone doesn’t like letting go.”

“We’ll train that out of her,” Sam grunted, his voice moving around to the other side. A familiar click made your stomach flip - you’d heard that noise repeatedly in eighth grade when Billy Williamson got a switchblade from his big brother for his birthday. He was always flipping it open and closed in class, until he sliced the top of his thumb off and it was taken away.

One of them had a knife.

Your body vibrated with adrenaline, fight or flight warring with your common sense. There was no way of knowing where they were, no way of sensing the knife and you felt the first  _ real _ punch of fright in your gut. You shuddered, holding your breath and trying not to pee in terror.

A finger touched your hip, sliding under the waistband of your lace panties. It lifted them and then you felt the cold steel of the knife against your skin. You bit your lip, waiting for the pain -

The knife sliced through the fabric and repeated the action on the other side. Your ruined panties were tugged from underneath you and tossed away, seconds before hand spread your thighs and exposed your sodden cunt to their view.

“Hmmm,” Sam hummed, dipping one finger between your folds, “she’s soaked. Did feeling that knife on your skin turn you on?”

_ No. No, no, no. _

You didn’t answer. 

The sharp slap to your thigh was unexpected and hurt enough for you to cry out. “When you’re asked a question,” Sam growled, “you answer.” You sucked in a breath, trying to will away the tears that the slap prompted. “Did the knife turn you on?”

“Yes, sir” you sobbed and Dean’s chuckle made you turn your head to the side in shame.

“ _ Sir _ ,” Sam muttered. “I like that.” His finger eased into you, coming away glistening with your juices. “Your pussy looks good enough to eat. Has anyone ever gone down on you, pretty girl?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“No, sir.”

Dean grunted. “Typical.”

Sam smiled, adding a second finger, slowly working you into a frenzy. “Dean’s very good with his tongue. He’s got a bit of an oral fixation.” You nodded, gasping for breath as Sam kept fucking you with his fingers. Dean didn’t move, watching you writhe on the bed, his cock aching in his shorts. “Do you want to feel my brother’s tongue on your wet little cunt, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Goddamn,” Dean muttered, “she’s smarter than the last one at least. Knows how to please.” You didn’t want to feel happy at the compliment, didn’t want to feel good for being better than  _ the last one _ . But the glow in your chest was only second to the pleasure from Sam’s fingers opening you up. “Maybe you were right, Sammy.”

Your mind raced;  _ right about what? _

“I usually am,” Sam quipped, leaning down to drag his tongue over your clit. You squeaked and bucked, almost dislodging him. “Oh, she’s so sensitive, Dean…”

“And you’re already aching to stick your dick in her,” Dean scolded, earning another laugh from Sam. “Back off, Casanova. She’s gotta work for that orgasm.”

Sam’s tongue and fingers abandoned you and you mewled pitifully, arching on the bed and digging your heels in. He was still kneeling between your thighs and you pressed them together, trying to beckon him closer. With a groan, he pushed away, shaking his head. “She’s like putty,” he commented, “already begging like a bitch in heat.”

Neither of them spoke for a minute and you were on the verge of demanding to know what was going on as the buzz slowly faded from your body, taking the promise of pleasure with it and leaving only disappointment.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Sam mumbled quietly. “I mean, she’s the perfect age, she’s got serious potential.”

“Maybe,” Dean admitted, only managing to make you more curious about what they were debating. “But that’s a question for later.” Something metallic clinked together and you went still as he took hold of your wrists. “Let’s get started.”


	5. Chapter 5

Once the cuffs were hooked up above the bed, they started slowly, teasing you with featherlite touches, using only their hands. Sam was almost methodical about it, spending an inordinate amount of time twisting and pinching your nipples until they were hard, red, and aching. Dean seemed fixated on your pussy, dragging you to the edge of climax over and over, never letting you fall too far.

By the time they got to toys, you were a sweating shaking mess on the bed. It only got worse when the questions started.

Dean went first, his thumb pressed into your clit, tracing lazy circles as you panted heavily. “How many men have you fucked, Y/N?” You didn’t answer right away, trying to scramble your brain cells into order; Dean pinched your labia and you squeaked.

“Four!”

A smirk curved his lips and he stroked your clit again, forcing you to moan and arch. They hadn’t tied your ankles down yet, which was some relief. “You suck any of them off?”

You nodded but the non-verbal answer wasn’t good enough. This time, Sam twisted your already sore right nipple. “Yes.”

“You like sucking cock, Y/N?” Sam asked, bending down close to whisper in your ear.

This time, your answer came without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Quick learner,” Dean growled, sliding two fingers into your slick channel. You whimpered, your chin quivering as he held them, not moving. “Do you swallow, sweetheart?”

“I - I don’t know,” you admitted. Ben never let it get that far, even when you wanted it.

“I think you’d swallow,” Dean murmured, “just like I think you look like the perfect little slut with a cock in your mouth.” Instinctively, you parted your lips, gasping as Sam started to fondle your breasts, his touch firm but not painful. Dean withdrew his fingers, dipping them lower until they were pressed right against your asshole. 

Your entire body tensed, expecting pain but he froze, not increasing or decreasing the pressure against the tight ring of muscle.

“You ever been fucked in the ass, Y/N?” His low timbre shook you to your core and you squeaked what you hoped sounded like a  _ no _ .

Sam groaned, pinching your nipples - your body jerked and Dean snatched his hand away, laughing at the twitch of your pussy. He moved away, leaving Sam to keep teasing your breasts, his touch slowly moving lower.

“Do you touch yourself, baby?” Sam purred, sliding his hand between your legs, stroking through your folds. You answered honestly and he grinned. “Has anyone ever made you squirt?”

“No,” you whispered, choking back a whine as his fingers teased your hole.

Sam was between your thighs now, fingers slowly dipping in and out of you, watching as you quivered needily. “She needs a rest. If she’s too on edge, you’ll only have to blow on her and she’ll cum.”

Dean chuckled. “She’s certainly a responsive little sex doll.” His voice was close to your ear and you tensed as something started to buzz. “We can keep teasing her without touching her where it counts.” His footsteps came back to the bed and it dipped under his weight, his knee brushing your side.

A second later, something cold and plastic and  _ vibrating _ pressed against your nipple and you jumped at the sudden sensation.

“Down,” Sam growled, digging his thumb into your thigh, right into a spot that made your eyes cross. The sound you emitted made Sam look up at his brother. “I think we found a kink.” He repeated the action, hard enough for the skin to darken with the beginnings of a bruise. You cried out this time but didn’t shy away, the pain morphing into pleasure that left you craving more.

The vibration left your nipple, switching to the other one. Dean watched your bottom lip as you snatched it between your teeth, a muffled whine in your throat. “You like pain, Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, shaking your head from side to side as he increased the vibration against your breast. “I don’t know!” you repeated, worried you’d answered wrong.

“I know,” he said, his tone amused, “I just wanted to watch you squirm.”

It was becoming more apparent that you were in over your head but stubbornness wouldn’t let you acknowledge it. Curiosity was starting to override determination - you’d felt more pleasure without cumming than you ever had with any other man.

There were no rules here and the thrill of it was more than a little intoxicating.

The bedroom door opened and there was a pause. Sam got up from the bed and Dean turned off the vibration, abandoning you on the bed. The door closed again and Dean mumbled something at his brother.

“I think we’re done for today,” Dean murmured, “here at least.” Your arms ached as he freed you from the cuffs and removed the blindfold. “Sit up,” he ordered.

You obeyed, blinking against the sudden light. Dean lifted a hand, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“You don’t touch yourself,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on yours. “You don’t get to cum. Not until you’ve earned it.”

*****

Sam disappeared quickly, barely sparing a second glance as Dean cleaned you up, handing you back your clothes. He waited for you, checking his phone; you hurried, desperate not to piss him off. As you pulled your panties back on, you saw the bruise coming out on your leg.

Apparently Sam had very big thumbs.

Once you were dressed, Dean led you out of the bedroom and through the club. When you passed Elle’s office, it was very obvious someone was having sex on the other side of the closed door. Dean chuckled, adjusting himself in his pants as your stomach churned.

“Perks of management,” he quipped and your cheeks colored with shame.

Dean barely spoke on the way back to Chrissy’s apartment. He pulled up to the curb slowly, stopping you before you got out of the car. His hand laid across your bare thigh, making you shudder almost imperceptibly.

“Remember the rules.”

The way he said it was casual but you knew you were going to obey. Despite the intense pounding that lingered in your core, you would do as you were told.

“See you in the morning,” he dismissed, pulling back and putting his hands on the wheel. You nodded once, climbing out of the car onto shaking legs, almost stumbling toward the entrance of the apartment block.

The black Impala peeled away from the curb, tires squealing as Dean gunned it down the street.

Your hands were still quivering when you reached Chrissy’s front door. When you finally got it open, it was immediately clear no one was home and you sighed in relief, hurrying to the shower. Standing under the hot spray was bliss and you were in there longer than necessary.

Drying yourself off, you slipped into bed, not bothering to dress. Your phone buzzed away in your bag, Ben’s name flashing across the screen.

You were already asleep by the time he stopped trying.

*****

Dean was alone in the bedroom the next morning when you knocked timidly and opened the door. You stepped inside, closing it quickly, standing stiffly by the door, waiting for him to speak. “Mornin’,” he drawled, not bothering to look over at you.

“W-where’s Sam?” you asked hesitantly.

“He’ll be along,” Dean replied coolly, turning to face you with a smile on his handsome face. “We can start without him.”

Shifting from foot to foot, you chewed on your bottom lip. “Er,” you cleared your throat, “where do you want me?”

Dean sniffed, pointing at the bed. “Clothes off, sweetheart,” he reminded and you swallowed, hurrying to the bed, removing your clothes and folding them neatly on the small bedside table. He seemed pleased at that, grinning widely. “Good girl.”

The praise heated your core and you struggled to control your breathing as you laid down. As your head hit the mattress, the door opened and Sam walked in, his hair wet as if he’d just got out of the shower. Dean glanced at him, reached to the dresser to pick up the cuffs they’d used yesterday.

Sam approached the bed, leering openly at your nude body, his eyes draw to the bruise he’d made yesterday on your thigh. “You wear my marks well,” he murmured, trailing his fingers over the tender flesh. Pressing down until you squeaked, he chuckled, licking his lips. “I’m gonna make you look so pretty.”

You shuddered, unable to tear your eyes away from his until Dean reached over, taking hold of your wrists.

“We’re not gonna use the blindfold today,” he instructed, fastening your wrists into the restraints. “I want you to see everything.”

Sam’s grin widened and he moved toward the armchair in the corner, shedding his jacket and t-shirt. He stripped down to his boxers, the prominent bulge making you snatch your eyes away and fix them on the ceiling.

“A-are you going to fuck me?” you whispered, quickly adding ‘sir’ before Dean could punish you.

“No,” Dean replied, smiling wide, revealing rows of perfect white teeth. 

Sam was next to you now, handing over a length of coiled rope to his brother and you wondered where he’d produced it from. “We’re not going to fuck you until you’re begging us to.”

You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or not. It put a little bit of control back in your hands; as long as you didn’t give in, it wasn’t really  _ bad _ cheating. The guilt of being touched would probably be bearable.

“Sam, don’t forget,” Dean warned, directing it at his brother. “We’ve got a meeting with the Burgenstorm committee at four.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam grumbled, opening the drawer in the nightstand and pulling out a strip of leather, “I haven’t forgotten.”

“I won’t be here all day?” you asked timidly, trying to get them talking again. The name  _ Burgenstorm _ sounded familiar; you wanted whatever information you could get.

Dean smirked at you. “You’ll need a little while to recover, sweetheart.” Fear, curiosity, and arousal, curdled in your belly, clogging your throat. Sam leaned over with what you now saw was a gag. “I said we weren’t gonna blindfold you,” Dean said when your eyes widened. You lifted your head obediently, wincing when Sam secured the gag tightly over your mouth. “But we can’t have you screaming the place down. Elle would have my head.”

“Or other parts,” Sam snickered, releasing your head. The gag was uncomfortable and the instinct to breath through your nose took a few moments to kick in. You swallowed, feeling a little nauseous when Dean started to knot the rope around your feet.

“We’re gonna see,” he looped the rope under your ankles, “how much you can take. You liked the little taste yesterday -”

Sam prodded your bruise hard and you moaned into the gag, making Dean smirk again.

“So now we’re gonna see just how dirty and twisted you  _ really _ are.”

A million questions were stopped by the gag. How would they know if you’d had enough without being able to speak? Would they stop? Was the intention that you didn’t get out of here alive?

There was a thick leather paddle in Sam’s hands. Your mouth went dry.

“You’ve never been spanked,” he stated, reaching out with the paddle and rubbing the flat side over your unmarked thigh. You shook your head in agreement even though he knew it was true already. “You’re frightened right now.” This time you nodded and the smile on his face was almost soulless. “It’s easy to tell,” he murmured, tapping the paddle lightly on the inside of your thigh, “when screams of pleasure become screams of pain.”

The paddle came down hard and for a split second, the patch it struck was stinging with cold before heat spread outward, the pain mixing with your increasing arousal to force a whimpered cry that the gag muffled. Sam’s smile grew and he pressed the cool paddle against your thigh again, quelling the sting just a little.

“Don’t worry,” Dean murmured, dragging your attention to the other side of the bed, “Sam’s always on target.” He held out two implements - both were long thin metal, polished with two prongs, tipped with rubber. In the middle was a single link on each of them. “They’re nipple tweezers,” he informed you.

Sam slapped your thigh with the paddle again. Goose-pimples broke out across your skin and you whined into the gag. Dean chuckled, loosening one of the tweezers, reaching out to twist your left nipple until it was hard.

The metal was cool against your breast and the tweezer didn’t feel tight. Dean pressed his thumb and forefinger over the middle ring, pulling it along and your eyes closed automatically, back arching and cunt pulsing as the pain exploded through your breast.

It was easy to make out the word  _ fuck _ behind the gag, even screamed and muffled. Dean kept going until tears leaked from the corners of your eyes before he released the clamp, standing back.

The paddle struck your thigh again and you yelped, arching off of the bed. Your body didn’t know what to focus on and the way the pain radiated through your body was achingly delicious. It felt like you were soaking the sheets under your ass with how wet you were.

Sam hit you again and you groaned wantonly, spurring Dean into attaching the second clamp. Your eyes rolled back under closed lids and the sound you made wasn’t one you’d ever heard before. When the paddle hit your thigh this time, your core grew wetter and you writhed needily. 

“Well, well, well,” Dean drawled, dragging his finger through your folds, the digit coming away glistening with your arousal, “isn’t someone quite the little pain slut.” Sam’s deep chuckle made your eyes open. “You’re still not allowed to cum, sweetheart.”

You managed a nod before the paddle came down again, harder this time, the slap of the contact echoing around the room, bouncing off the crimson walls. A guttural cry left your lips; the patch on your leg was significantly darker now, marked in roughly the shape of the paddle.

Dean stepped away, out of sight and you panted through the gag, ignoring the leathery taste as you tried to gulp down oxygen. The clamps on your breasts ached with little sparks of pain that made your pussy clench.

Sam looked over at his brother, smiling and holding out the paddle. Dean took it, handing him a leather riding crop in return; it had a flared, rounded tip, larger than necessary. You swallowed, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose. “You’ll like this one,” Sam murmured, dragging the crop from your cunt to your breasts, tapping it lightly around your trapped nipples.

All you could do was whimper through the gag and squirm uselessly in your bonds. Sam repeated the action several times over, enjoying the way you wriggled, trying to ease your discomfort. Dean appeared back in sight, something you couldn’t see in his hands.

The riding crop stopped beneath the swell of your left breast, tickling the sensitive skin underneath. Dean held something red over your bruised thigh, his other hand visibly holding a lighter. “This is one of my favorites,” he murmured, lighting what you could now see what a candle. “Maybe a little tame for Sammy’s tastes.”

You could feel the heat of the flame and Dean pocketed the lighter, letting the wax melt and pool around the wick. Sam pulled the riding crop away and you fought not to tense up, your whole body shaking. The crop came down, across your belly; a red welt instantly appeared and Sam grinned in satisfaction at your whimpered cry.

Dean tilted his hand, letting one fat drop of red wax drip from the candle onto your exposed thigh. It started to harden as it landed, trickling down your thigh. You writhed and moaned some more, arching your chin up as if you had any hope of getting the gag off.

More wax splashed onto your thigh, each rivulet taking a different scalding path over your leg and you screamed into the gag, arching your entire body when Sam brought the whip down over the thigh he’d already reddened.

Something shifted in your chest, the pain beginning to outweigh the pleasure and instantly, Sam stopped, tossing the crop away. Dean let the wax on your thigh dry as his brother pressed his fingers into your sodden cunt, sliding two as deep as he could.

Leaning down, Dean kissed the shell of your ear. “You can cum now, princess.”

Sam’s fingers crooked inside you, easily finding the most sensitive spot. The spoken permission was like a switch and you clenched around his digits, easily losing yourself to pleasure. Sam withdrew as you worked through it, both brothers standing back to watch.

“I think we’re done for today,” Dean murmured, meeting Sam’s eyes. You whimpered, opening your eyes again as Sam reached over and undid the gag. The first thing you did was take a gulp of fresh air, glancing at Dean.

“That’s it?” you gasped, frowning.

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking at Dean to gauge his reaction. “Was there something you wanted, Y/N?” Dean asked, keeping a straight face as he drew back to look you in the eye. Your breathing hitched as you remembered.

_ They won’t have to. _

_ We’re not going to fuck you until you’re begging us to. _


	6. Chapter 6

Everything hurt. With every move you made, the marks on your thighs and breasts, the bruises on your nipples, everything chafed against clothing. It wasn’t even the pain that bothered you; it was the way your belly churned with arousal every time you felt something catch.

Dean had told you not to touch yourself again and it ached to obey. You were so needy, unsatisfied from just the one climax you’d had that morning.

They’d only had you for an hour.

Sixty minutes that had you questioning everything you knew about yourself. The way you’d reacted to the pain was not what you’d expected, but you supposed it explained why sex had never been such a… let down. Ben couldn’t hope to cause those types of reactions in you.

There were twenty missed calls on your phone from the last few days and more texts than you cared to count. You swiped away each notification; you hated having the little alert notices glaring at you, each one saying  _slut, liar, whore_.

Ben would never forgive this. You’d let it get too far by even walking through the door of the club.

But you needed evidence. Your notes so far were pathetic. Chrissy was counting on this to do less jail time and she seemed like a good person.

Crawling under your covers, nude to avoid chafing any of your marks - Sam’s marks - you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. Your pussy ached with the need to be filled, to be satisfied, and when you drifted off, you dreamed of Sam fucking you from behind with the thick cock you knew his boxers were hiding.

A knock at the door woke you and you groaned, left soaking wet and unsated once again. Chrissy’s voice dragged you out of the dreamy haze and you called out for her to come in, tugging the covers up and hissing when you caught your raw nipples on the fabric.

“Hey,” Chrissy greeted, poking her head in the door. “I didn’t see you last night.”

“I was tired. Elle’s been… showing me things,” you said cautiously. Chrissy’s eyebrows lifted skeptically and you forced a smile onto your face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Chrissy murmured, sitting at the end of your bed. “Have you, er, seen them again?” The look on your face must have given you away and her expression turned to concern. “Y/N -”

“Yes, I’ve seen them. But I’m not exactly getting chatty,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “I’m fine. Nothing happened.” You hoped she’d swallow your lie and for a few moments, she watched you. When she shook her head, you tried not to let your relieved sigh be too obvious.

“Just be careful, Y/N,” the other woman warned, getting to her feet. “The Winchesters have a reputation for breaking pretty girls like you.”

“I got this,” you retorted and Chrissy snorted a laugh.

“I hope you’re right, sweetheart.” She paused at the door looking back at you. “I’m ordering take-out. You want some?”

*****

On the third day, Sam and Dean weren’t there when you arrived at ten on the dot. Elle was waiting for you, with instructions to take you shopping. A private car, driven by Benny, was waiting at the front of the club and Elle locked up before guiding you toward it.

“Why do they want me to go shopping?”

Elle gave you a knowing smile, instructing Benny to drive to the usual mall. She sat back, hooking one leg over the other, showcasing her shapely legs. Once again, she was wearing heels, dressed to perfection.

You felt plain next to her.

“Dean and Sam have specific requests for you. And since neither of them would know fashion if it jumped up and chomped them in the butt,” Elle chuckled, pressed one hand to her chest, “it’s down to the expert.”

“You’re… you’re not afraid of them, are you?” you asked and she flashed you a smile.

“Not in the way you are. They’re powerful men, Y/N. If they want something, they’ll get it.” She glanced out of the window, a slightly dreamy look on her face. “Think of the darkest thing you can imagine a human being doing and I guarantee you, Sam Winchester has tasted it.”

The comment made fright crawl up your spine.

Benny guided the car through traffic, pulling off onto a side road into a parking garage. It was dimly lit and when he parked the car, he turned the engine off and remained still. Elle leaned forward, patting him on the shoulder.

“We’ll be fine on our own, Benny,” she instructed and he nodded sharply. “C’mon, Y/N.”

The first few stores were fine and in a small way, you started to enjoy yourself. It afforded you an opportunity to see what Elle knew, how deep into the Winchester’s pockets she was, although she was tight-lipped and laughed at many of your comments and probing questions.

At the fourth store, she spoke to a clerk as you stood, eyeing the expensive lingerie. The clerk smiled and nodded at whatever Elle had said; the club manager beckoned you to follow her. There was a door at the back, almost concealed by a sales rack that still looked like nothing you could ever afford. “If there’s anything you need, Madam,” the woman bowed her head and opened the door, holding it wide.

Elle strutted through and you followed, swallowing nervously when the door closed behind you. “This is their private collection. Exclusive customers only.”

You nodded, looking around as she led you down the corridor. Another door at the end was attended by another clerk who bowed her head. Beyond that door was what looked like another shop - except the items on the rails were not what you would find in any back shelves at Ann Summers.

“Would you like any assistance today, Madam?” the clerk asked and Elle smiled at her warmly.

“Is changing room seven free?”

“Of course.”

Turning on her heel, Elle headed down through the racks of latex and PVC. One display had a particularly bizarre machine with what looked a cage for someone’s head attached to a bench. At the bottom, there was a large plastic cock on a hydraulic arm - your mind was going to places it hadn’t visited before.

On the far end of the store, there was a row of doors with numbers one to eight in delicate golden lettering. Elle went directly to number seven and opening the door. She gestured to you and you frowned, taking a hesitant step forward.

“Nothing’s going to bite you,” she murmured in amusement; you swallowed and walked into the room, followed by Elle and the clerk. “Would you bring us the Bordeaux collection, the Samantha Jones and,” she paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully as the clerk waited, “I think the Maximilian.”

You had no idea what any of those things were but the clerk nodded, smiled and turned away. Elle reached over and flicked a light switch, bathing the room in the soft glow of a full length mirror surrounded by lights.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked and you shook your head. “Suit yourself.” Her heels clicked as she made her way to a black refrigerator in the corner, bending to open it and retrieve what looked like a very expensive bottle of white wine. “I imagine you’re quite overwhelmed by all this.”

Nodding, you remained stood on the spot, watching her open the wine and retrieve a glass from the neat little display above the refrigerator. She poured it delicately, filling half the glass before resealing the bottle.

“For some reason,” she sipped the drink, holding the glass against her chest when she was does, “the Winchesters have taken a very specific interest in you.Tomorrow evening, you are to accompany them to the club for an evening of drinks and entertainment with one of their clients.”

Trepidation was your first reaction to her words but you only nodded, turning your head when the clerk returned with an armful of items.

Elle smiled, thanking her and closing the door when she’d left. “These,” she murmured, gesturing to the neatly folded clothing, “will help you look the part.” Her lips quirked upward. “Strip.”

Your eyes went wide. “S-sorry?”

“Honey, you have nothing I haven’t seen before,” Elle drawled, walking back to her drink, keeping her eyes on you. “And you’re gonna have to take your clothes off to try those ones on.”

“Can’t I do that by myself?”

Elle’s amusement increased. “You’ll need help with some of these. Are you bothered by being nude in front of me, Y/N?” You squirmed uncomfortably but didn’t answer and Elle smiled, sipping her wine and looking at you expectantly.

Hesitating, you slowly moved your hands, reaching around the side of the simple red dress you were wearing. The fabric slid down as you undid the zip, leaving you in stockings, panties and a bra. Her eyebrows raised - you sucked in a breath and slipped your feet out of your shoes.

The wine glass clinked as it was returned to the spot on the dresser. “I see Sam’s leaving his mark,” Elle murmured, walking closer to peer at the bruises on both thighs. There was no hint of jealousy in her tone, only more amusement. “Tell me what they’ve shown you so far.”

You closed your eyes, not stopping the other woman as she stood behind you, her fingers hovering over the clasp of your bra. She sighed when you didn’t answer, unhooking the undergarment and tugging it down your arms.

“I told you that you’re not good at dumb, Y/N,” she said sternly, walking around to your front and tossing the bra across the room. “Talk.”

“They,” you cleared your throat, opening your eyes to look directly at her, “they were testing me.”

“How?”

The cool air pebbled your nipples and a shudder crawled up your spine. It was humiliating, standing here mostly nude in front of this strange powerful woman. You felt smaller by the minute, inadequate to be in her presence.

“With their fingers,” you whispered, “and a - a paddle.”

“Hmm,” Elle hummed, pressed one finger against your right nipple. You hissed - they were still sensitive from the day before. “Sam does like his paddles.” Her finger move down, touching on the still red skin underneath your breast. “Crop?”

“Yeah.”

She moved her other arm, taking hold of your panties on each side and dragging them down. You lifted your eyes to the ceiling, a blush staining your cheeks. When she remained crouched, you almost looked down.

Her hand covered the bruise on your left thigh, her thumb pressing lightly against the tender flesh. A whimper left your throat and you felt a rush of heat between your thighs.

Elle got her feet, a knowing smile on her face when she turned away. “Let’s try some of these on.”

*****

Saturday morning rolled around with a terrifying quickness, despite a full afternoon at the club after shopping with Elle in the morning. Dean and Sam had pushed your limits, seeing exactly how much punishment they could administer with the toys they’d used so far. By Friday night, you were exhausted and barely managed to put yourself to bed before passing out.

The benefit of the time with them was overhearing little comments and whispers. You were hopeful the night would reveal something of importance. Dean had ordered you to spend the day preparing and you had.

At eleven am, your phone rang. Ben’s name flashed across the screen and you stared at it, unsure whether you should answer. Guilt swelled in your stomach and you picked the phone up, answering the call. “Hey.”

“ _You answered,_ ” he said, sounding shocked.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, closing your eyes, “things are…”

“ _I was starting to think you were dead_ ,” Ben said, the words almost choked. “ _Couldn’t you have just text back?_ ”

“I’m supposed to be undercover, Ben,” you murmured gently, “that means I can’t answer this phone all the time.”

He was quiet for a minute, only his breathing coming over the line. “ _How’s the case going?_ ” he grunted, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from his constant calls.

“Slow,” you admitted, biting your lip. “But I’m hoping to get some good intel tonight.”

“ _Tonight?_ ” The jealousy in his tone was palpable and you swallowed, nodding against the phone. “ _What’s happening tonight?_ ”

“Some posh party with a client,” you replied, “they… they asked me to work the bar.” The lie made your hands tremble. “I’ve gotta go to a meeting in about an hour, baby, is it okay if I call you tomorrow?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Ben’s reply was quiet, dejected, and you felt like the worst human being on the planet, “ _I’ll speak to you later, Y/N_.” He hung up before you could say goodbye. For a few moments, you stared at your phone, a shuddering sob leaving your throat.

You needed to get something good tonight. The sooner you could get home and put this behind you, the better.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel was stood by the car when you emerged from the apartment building, holding your coat tightly around you. The outfit Elle had specifically requested you wear was a long black shimmering dress with a slit on either side that ran almost to the line of your pelvis, matched with simple low heels.

She was really insistent on you learning how to walk in them.

The stern looking bodyguard opened the rear car door on the passenger side, not speaking to you as he waited for you to get to the curb. It was already getting dark outside and you’d been expecting to get a cab; you slipped in without questioning it, surprised to find both Winchesters already on the wide back seats.

“Good evenin’, sweetheart,” Dean murmured, sprawled against the window with one bowed legged stretched out. Sam was in a similar position on the opposing seat and when the door closed, Dean patted the middle of the leather bench beside him. “Thought you might like a ride.”

Sam was smirking as you scooted over, feeling the heat of Dean’s thigh pressed against yours. “Thank you, sir,” you whispered, unsure if it was the right thing to say.

Dean’s smile reached his eyes and you knew you’d pleased him. Something foreign and not wholly unpleasant curled in your belly, the sensation intensifying as he placed one large hand on your bare thigh where the dress had fallen and exposed it.

“Did Elle tell you what was expected of you tonight?” Sam asked, leaning forward. Dean moved into you, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hand moved further up.

“Yes, sir,” you answered breathlessly, your heart already racing out of control.

“And have you followed all the rules?” Dean continued, his fingertips brushing so close to your pussy that you held your breath, nodding. “Oh, Sammy,” he purred, his fingers gliding over your bare pussy, “she’s done exactly like she was told.”

Sam chuckled, palming the bulge in his pants as his brother spread your thighs, tugging the panel of your dress to one side, showing Sam your exposed cunt. He groaned, tilting his head and you released a shuddering breath.

Dean’s lips were on the corner of yours now, the almost chaste kiss completely opposing the way his fingers were teasing your pussy lips. He chuckled when you whimpered and spread your legs further, desperate to cum.

“I don’t think so,” he purred, lowering his touch to your twitching hole, avoiding your clit entirely. “You’re so wet, Y/N. You’ve only been in here for two minutes.”

Sam knocked on the glass screen behind his head before moving over to take the space beside you, crushing you between him and Dean. The glass screen lowered and Castiel’s blue eyes were staring at you in the rearview mirror, clearly able to see what they were doing to you.

He didn’t so much as flinch.

“Don’t mind him,” Sam murmured, “there’s gonna be worse people looking at you tonight.”

_ Like you _ ? Your mind provided the question but you held your tongue, feeling Dean’s fingers dip into your sodden pussy.

“Tell me how that feels,” Dean ordered, his mouth by your ear now.

“Good,” you managed, “sir.”

Sam’s hand was on your other thigh. “You’re not allowed to cum, princess,” he chided, seeing the way your chin tilted, your flushed thighs opening even more to try and coax Dean into giving you what you wanted. Without warning, Sam pressed down on your bruises, making you cry out.

You were barely aware of the cars movement now and Castiel’s voyeurism was the last thing on your mind as Dean thrust his fingers deeper into you. “You don’t speak tonight,” Dean murmured, crushing the heel of his hand against your clit. “You do as you are told at all times.”

“Y-yes, s-sir.”

Dean’s fingers kept working inside you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. In your desperation not to cum, you tried to focus on something else but the only sensation that seemed to matter was the warmth of their bodies either side of you, the scent of their cologne mixed with the fruity perfume Chrissy had spray on your wrists. Sam’s thumb pressed into your bruised thigh and you felt the first flutterings of your climax.

Both of them pulled away, smug expressions on their faces as you mewled pathetically, slumped on the seat.

“We don’t want to get you too worked up,” Sam soothed, replacing your dress to cover your modesty. “You look so pretty, baby. Wouldn’t wanna ruin it.”

You swallowed, opening your eyes and meeting Castiel’s in the mirror just as he turned his head and grunted, “we’re here.”

Your legs were shaking when Dean helped you out of the car. Sam slipped a possessive arm around your waist, guiding you to the club where Benny stood in his usual spot at the door. “Evenin’, Benny,” Sam greeted, earning a nod from the stoic bouncer.

Dean hung back, chatting to Benny - you strained to hear their conversation, but Sam was already leading you down the corridor to the main bar area. Music was playing just loudly enough to turn every conversation into background chatter, although you could feel the deep beat in your bones. 

You remained quiet as Sam ordered himself a whiskey on the rocks and you, a virgin margarita. “Don’t want your senses impaired,” he murmured against your ear as he slid the drink in front of you.

The glass was cold when you picked it up, following Sam obediently through the busy club toward a private area, roped off from the rest of the bar. You could feel eyes on you as you followed him, moving to sit down next to him and placing your drink on the circular glass topped table next to his.

“Your seat is here,” Sam corrected, patting his thigh and you hesitated, enough to make his eyes narrow. “Come on now, pretty girl. Don’t disappoint me.”

Pushing down your nerves, you sat exactly where he told you to, settling your bottom into the curve of his leg. Sam slipped a hand around your hip, resting the other on your bare thigh where the slit in the dress revealed it.

Dean joined you only moments later. “They sent Balthazar,” he muttered, obviously displeased. “Kinda makes me feel they’re not taking this seriously.”

Sam snorted, rubbing his hand in small circles on your leg. “Then we’ll  _ make _ them take it seriously.” He paused, watching the way you sat warily in his lap. “Frightened little rabbit,” he murmured, his hand moving a little higher. “You need to relax, pretty girl.”

You tried not to move, even as his fingers brushed your bare pussy, imitating his brother’s actions from the drive. He smiled wolfishly, teasing your clit until you exhaled softly, a whine on your breath.

It was impossible to keep a straight face when Sam pressed two fingers into you, burying them deep. He groaned under his breath, the heavy beat of the music covering the sound.

“I’m gonna make you cum,” he whispered, right against your ear, crooking his fingers just right. “It won’t take you long. You’re so wet, baby. Bet I could slide my cock right into you without any trouble.” You gasped, clutching his shoulder. “Maybe I should do that. Turn you around and fuck you in front of every man in here.”

The orgasm hit you, making your legs tremble as Sam kept working you through it, his other hand on your lower back to stop you falling backwards. Dean watched with a smirk, one hand draped over his lap to hide his erection.

“Dirty little whore,” Sam muttered, laughing under his breath as he withdrew his fingers, keeping his eyes locked on yours when he dragged the digits to your lips. “Open wide, princess.”

Obediently, you parted your lips, accepting the two thick fingers that had been buried inside you only seconds earlier. Your own taste wasn’t something you were a stranger to, but the way Sam’s fingers stroked over your tongue only made you remember how fucking naive you were where it came to sex.

These men had touched you intimately, had made you cum and marked you. Yet you hadn’t even seen either of them naked.

“Balthazar!” Sam greeted loudly, removing his fingers and grinning at the tall lean blond man who stepped through the ropes, instructing the burly suited guys behind him to stay put. “Here I thought they were gonna send someone intimidating.”

Dean chuckled at that. You looked up, meeting the gaze of the man; it was the coldest set of eyes you’d ever looked into. Balthazar gave you a chilling smile, taking a seat on the upholstered stool opposing the Winchesters.

“Still funny, Samuel,” he chided, his eyes dropping to your lap where your thighs were still parted, the slightest glimpse of your pussy making him smile wider. “A new pet?”

Sam looked down at you, a darkness crossing his face that genuinely frightened you. He moved, lowering you to a seating position between him and his brother, nudging your thighs together. Your eyes were on the floor, not moving as shame made you want to disappear.

“I assume you know the proposition we’re making,” Dean interrupted, changing the subject.

Balthazar turned his cold gaze on Dean. “I was under the impression your father would be here.”

Sam shot him an unfriendly smile. “Dad’s taken more of a backseat in the family business.”

“Too busy sticking his dick in a secretary?” Balthazar returned and Dean scowled at the remark. “Tell me, is Daddy dearest aware of your latest venture?” Your attention was caught and you tried not to seem to alert, listening intently. “Imports and exports… it’s a rough business boys. Maybe a little too rough for your tastes.”

Imports and exports? You scrambled to remember the outline of their businesses from the case file; it wasn’t easy when your body was still on fire from the climax Sam had granted you. There hadn’t been any information about imports from what you recalled - the Winchesters interests were far removed from import and export.

“What do you think our tastes are?” Dean commented. You shuddered involuntarily and he noticed, chuckled lightly. “Aside from that. There’s not a lot we won’t do, Balty.”

Balthazar’s eyes narrowed in obvious distaste for the nickname. “You understand,” he started, crossing his legs and placing his hands on his knee, “this is a significant risk to undertake. Besides the fact that your father refused our generous offer several years ago -”

“John isn’t part of this anymore,” Sam repeated.

“He still has the controlling interest in the family business,” Balthazar snapped, eyes flashing. “And while you two chuckleheads tell me you’re running it, I haven’t seen anything to prove you know what the hell you’re doing.”

Dean’s hand slid onto your thigh, his eyes glancing at you. “Is that why Zachariah didn’t come?” he purred, digging his fingers into your bruises. You gasped, body tensing; he showed no reaction, keeping cool as he continued to talk. “Doesn’t think we can handle it?”

Balthazar chuckled, shaking his head. “Not at all. He thinks you deserve a chance to prove yourself.” He lifted a hand, signalling his bodyguard. “Get me an ice water,” he ordered, not taking his eyes off Dean. The bodyguard turned and headed for the bar, pushing between the patrons to get to the front. “It’s a busy night,” Balthazar commented. “I’m curious about the renowned entertainment here at your little club.” The mocking tone of his voice made Dean’s eyes narrow.

“Business with pleasure?” Sam drawled, glancing at his brother. “I’m sure we can provide some… distraction before we sit down to the nitty gritty.”

“You’re determined to get your deal, aren’t you, Samuel?” Balthazar chuckled, unfolding his legs and leaning forward. Sam smirked, clicking his fingers at a couple of women, dressed much like you were, although displaying far more skin. The blond man’s smile became lecherous as the two girls obeyed their employer’s command.

One of them was Marie, who instantly slid into Balthazar’s lap, her hands all over him. “Hi,” she said coyly, batting her eyelashes, “I’m Marie.”

“Anything you want, we can provide,” Sam informed the man, who placed his hands on Marie’s waist, admiring the view of her cleavage. “You can see how dark our tastes run for yourself.”

Balthazar’s eyes went to you and you shivered, watching him palm Marie’s breast through her top. “What about her?” he asked, jerking his chin in your direction. “She’s very…”

“Not available,” Sam growled, making you jump in surprise.

“Not even for the right price?” Balthazar countered. “How about $10,000 for an hour?”

You lifted your head, indignant at being appraised like cattle. Sam shifted closer to you, placing his hand on your knee. “You can have anything else you want,” he said slowly, “but not her.” The unspoken possession was enough to make your thighs warm and for a few seconds, no one spoke.

The other man’s eyebrows raised with his smile. “I guess then,” he muttered, turning his gaze back to Marie, her sickly innocent smile making you want to throw up, “it’s you and me, my sweet.”

Dean’s hand squeezed on your thigh, reminding you he was there. “Marie,” he instructed, “take our guest to the back and give him  _ whatever _ he wants.” Marie’s smile grew and she stood up, sliding her hands down his arms. Balthazar smiled, getting to his feet and following her.

Sam growled, slamming back his whiskey, waiting until Balthazar and his lackeys were out of earshot. “I don’t trust him.”

“We talked about this, Sammy,” Dean warned, patting your thigh and getting to his feet. “Bygones are bygones. Brady is dead. You killed him, remember?”

A smile curled Sam’s lips and the low light in the bar hit him in a certain way that made his eyes seem dead, almost black. You tried not to let your panic show on your face - you’d imagined these men to be capable of a lot, but murder?

Maybe you were in deeper than you thought.

“I remember,” Sam replied, his smugness almost palpable as he laid eyes on you, “but I don’t like the way he looked at my pretty girl.” He leaned over and for a second, you heard your grandmother’s voice in your head.

_ The Devil has a charming tongue and a handsome face, my dear. _

“He can’t do anything but look,” Dean reminded his brother. “I’m gonna check in with Elle. Be right back.” You and Sam remained in the dark corner and when his big hands hauled you into his lap, you squeaked in surprise.

“Do you know what I want?” Sam asked, his mouth ghosting across yours. It was unclear if the question was rhetorical or not and Sam chuckled. “You can speak now, princess.”

“T - to fuck me, sir,” you whispered, ducking your head submissively but Sam’s fingers stopped you, forcing you to keep his gaze.

“What else?”

His fingers were under your dress again, teasing your sensitive sex. “I don’t - ah!” Sam grinned as you arched up in surprise, crooking his fingers inside you.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he groaned, pressing his nose against the spot below your ear, making it look to the rest of the bar like you were two lovers in a passionate embrace. His cock was hard in his slacks and you whined, tipping your head back. “You know what I want.”

“Y - you want me to cum,” you gasped.

His teeth dragged over your pulse point and you shuddered. “Maybe later,” he murmured, dragging his tongue across your skin. “Want me to tell you the answer?” You nodded, clutching at his shoulders as his fingers moved inside you. Sam groaned, his other hand clenching on your hip. “I want to own you. Mind. Body. And soul. I want you to be completely submissive to me, to obey every order.” He pulled back, using his free hand to cup your face. “Do you want to belong to me, pretty girl?”

You swayed, almost hypnotized by his his dark eyes and deep voice. The way he spoke was mesmerizing, drawing you in, trapped in his hold.

“Boss?”

Benny’s voice snapped the spell and Sam’s face twisted into a scowl. “What?” he snapped.

“We’ve got a problem.” Sam waited, sighing in irritation as Benny didn’t elaborate.

He pulled his fingers free of your body, shifting you out of his lap and back into your seat. “Well?”

“Really somethin’ you oughta come see, boss,” Benny ground out and Sam growled in irritation, getting to his feet and pulling his shirt down where it had ridden up. He glanced at you, his jaw clenching.

“Stay put. I’ll send Castiel to sit with you.”

You nodded, sitting straight, trying to ignore the bubbling frustration under your skin. Sam walked away with Benny and left you alone.

Your mind raced with the information, albeit only a little, but enough to get you started. Balthazar was a known associate of Zachariah Christopher, one of the wealthiest men in New York and also one of the most dangerous. It was rumored his influence went all the way to the President and you knew it was far beyond your paygrade.

“Hey.”

A new voice distracted you from your musings. You looked up, frowning as a slim dark-haired man slipped through the ropes. He smiled, sitting next to you. “You looked all lonely,” he joked, leaning in too far, “so I thought I’d come keep you company.”

“Oh.” You smiled politely, shifting away a little. The guy was familiar, although you couldn’t quite place him. Obviously someone with money and influence to be in a place like this. “I’m okay,” you insisted but the guy wasn’t giving up.

“C’mon, sat here, dressed like that? You’re one of the girls, right?” He laughed, nudging you with his elbow. “It’s okay, I’m not into that really kinky shit.”

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice interrupted, “but she is not available.”

The guy turned, looking up at Castiel, who stood over him menacingly. “All whores are available, my man. She just needs a little warmin’ up.”

Castiel’s eyes flickered to you briefly before going back to the other man. “She is not available,” he repeated, “she is Sam Winchester’s.”

It was frightening, the way in which the color drained from the guy’s face. He was almost shaking as he turned to you. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he murmured, backing away off the seat. “Please, I didn’t mean -”

“I suggest you end your evening early,” Castiel growled - the guy instantly bolted for the exit and you shuddered as you let yourself relax. “Are you okay?” the driver asked, although it sounded like he was reciting a line rather than showing concern for your wellbeing.

“Fine,” you said, giving him a tight smile, “where’s Sam?”

“Busy,” he replied, taking your arm, guiding you off of the couch. “I was instructed to take you home.” 

“Wait a minute -” Your protest died when you realized he was taking you through to the back, not out of the main entrance. The door behind the bar led to the bedrooms and Castiel dropped his hold on you once he was assured you would follow.

All of the doors were shut but from the sounds you could hear, they were all occupied. At the far end, you spotted Chrissy, her face ashen. She noticed you as you drew nearer, almost relieved. A door opened and Balthazar stepped out.

There was blood on his shirt.

He buttoned up his jacket, turning as Dean and Sam both came out of the room, their faces set in stern fury. Sam’s eyes met yours for a brief second.

“We’ll see how you deal with this little task,” Balthazar drawled smugly. “See you around, boys.”

Sauntering off back to the bar, he leaned in to give you a smile that seared itself into your mind, unconsciously making you move closer to your friend. When he disappeared, you found an inexplicable urge to run to Sam. 

Dean huffed and glanced at Chrissy. “Go home,” he instructed and Chrissy nodded, taking your hand and pulling you along. “We need to deal with this, Sam.”

Once you were out of earshot, you tugged on the other woman’s hand to get her to stop. “Chrissy - stop!”

“We need to get out of here,” she hissed, turning toward the fire exit. “Someone died.”

“Died?” you repeated, feeling sick. “How? What were you even doing here?”

Chrissy shook her head, opening the door and waiting until you were through before closing it and looking at you. The door had led to an alleyway and it was beginning to rain, the chilly air making you shudder. “Look,” Chrissy started, shrugging off her jacket and draping it around your shoulders. “Sometimes, there are accidents in this line, okay? Girls get cut, whip marks go deeper than they should - the men get carried away. So I sew them up. They don’t have to worry about insurance, the girls carry on working and I get extra pay.”

“How does someone die from kinky sex?” you asked, shaking your head. “Why were you here tonight?”

“It’s Saturday night. They always have me on hand,” she replied, avoiding the first question and you stared at her, seeing the fear in her eyes, the way she hugged herself tightly, shivering.

“What happened in there, Chrissy?” you requested quietly and she met your eyes.

“The blond guy -”

“Balthazar?” you clarified and she nodded.

“He… just…” she shook her head, “he just killed her. She wasn’t even undressed. He just killed her.”

“Killed who?”

Chrissy looked you in the eye, sadness replacing the fear. “Marie.” Your head jerked up and you gaped in shock. Marie had been alive not thirty minutes before. “We really need to go,” Chrissy whispered, taking your hand and dragging you down the alleyway.

You didn’t resist.


	8. Chapter 8

_ Sally Mikaels - 29, missing from New Jersey since November 24th 2017. _

_ Jennifer Carriford - 25 from Ohio, missing since August 3rd 2015. _

_ Alexander Mills - 27, missing since April 2nd 2016. _

_ Lisa Crawford - 29, missing since February 23rd 2016. _

_ Carol-Ann Bonham - missing since January 31st 2018. _

Your eyes scanned over the names of the missing persons and the information you’d managed to gather. The events at the club the night before had kept you awake and to avoid sexual frustration, you focused on work.

From what you’d discovered, the names on your list were names you could definitely connect to the club. All of the missing persons were attractive, young, single. Usually fresh from a break-up or trauma. Easy to lose in the big city.

Another name had cropped up repeatedly in connection with Sam Winchester and you knew that case. Jessica Moore, his college sweetheart, found raped and murder on November 2nd 2005 in their apartment at Stanford University. Sam was arrested and ultimately proved innocent. They never found who did it.

Sam had discovered her, nailed to the ceiling. When he’d been accused, his father had bailed him out. The incident had haunted him.

Brady. The name sounded familiar. Brady Watkins was the name of the witness, a friend of Sam and Jess, who implicated him in her murder. He hadn’t been seen since a few years after the murder. 

Sam had killed him.

Your phone rang, jolting you from your thoughts and you reached over, relieved to see it wasn’t Ben but the FBI handler. Answering it, you smiled, trying to sound positive and not utterly wrecked. Twelve hours of constant research would do that.

“Hey, Meg,” you greeted.

“ _ Hey, girl, _ ” she sounded casual, of course.

Meg was your handler. She kept in contact, mostly by phone but after a week undercover, you had to report in face-to-face. The best way of doing that, was friends meeting for coffee. “You calling about that coffee you promised me?” you asked and Meg laughed.

“ _ You know it!” _ The other woman always sounded so bubbly. “ _ Hey, could you bring that book we were talking about? _ ”

Shit. She wanted your notes. All you had was theories, the only evidence was Sam’s unrecorded admission. “Yeah, sure, I’m sure I can find it.” That let her know that you didn’t have much and Meg giggled again.

“ _ I’ll see you at four? Usual place? _ ”

“Sure,” you agreed, hanging up and looking down at your notes. You had a few hours to get something good enough for your commander. Despite your earlier reservations about this being above your paygrade, you didn’t have to investigate whatever dodgy business dealings were going on. This was pure and simple - you had to find a way to prove the missing persons were connected to Sam Winchester, something to prove he murdered Brady Watkins.

Ben called three times, the last attempt followed by a text saying “call me”. You ignored it, focusing everything on the job. By the time you were heading to the coffee shop, you had a few things you hoped would make the commanding officers happy.

Meg was good, acting like the perfect New York socialite, ordering a ridiculous drink and wearing huge sunglasses. She reclined in her seat, watching you the whole time and when you left, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that you hadn’t told her what you’d really done undercover.

You may have failed to mention that you’d even  _ met _ the Winchesters yet.

Your phone rang when you got back to the apartment and you stopped at the entrance to answer it, frowning at the unknown number. “Hello?”

“ _ Hello, pretty girl _ .”

It was like a switch; the sound of Sam’s voice made your legs weak and you leaned against the door, suddenly breathing heavily. “Hello, sir,” you answered him, bracing your hand on the wooden doorframe.

“ _ Where are you? _ ” he asked curiously.

“I was just out with a friend for coffee,” you replied and Sam chuckled.

“ _ What are you doing tonight? _ ” 

You stood straight, looking around. “N - nothing, sir.”

“ _ Good. Be ready at eight. _ ”

He hung up and you stared at the phone. “Ready for what?” you whispered.

Chrissy was in when you got up to the apartment, already on a bottle of wine at the kitchen table. “Hey,” she greeted, giving you a half-hearted wave. “Everything okay?”

For a second, you debated confiding in her. It had been a long time since you’d really had any close friends - social life came second to career, it always had. Chrissy was nice. She was sweet and kind…

And a criminal.

“Yeah,” you replied chirpily. “I’m going to grab a shower. That okay?”

“Sure.”

You couldn’t get away fast enough.

*****

“You look beautiful,” Sam murmured, watching you approach from the apartment. You couldn’t help the coy smile that blossomed on your lips. He opened the back door of the car for you, climbing in afterwards - Castiel was at the wheel again, the screen up. 

“Where’s Dean?” you asked innocently as Sam folded his long legs to get into the car. He closed the door and glanced over at you.

“He’s waiting for us,” he said, patting your thigh. You’d opted for a mid-thigh red dress with a sweetheart neckline that showcased your boobs - helped into their position by the lingerie that Elle had picked out for you.

Sam leaned over as Castiel pulled the car away from the sidewalk, sliding his hand up underneath your skirt. His face twisted in disappointment as his fingers met the barrier of your panties and you swallowed nervously.

“Y - you didn’t give me any instructions,” you whispered.

His smile returned and he removed his hand, sitting back. “I’ll let it slide this time. You’re new at this. But from now on, you never wear panties. Understood?”

You nodded, folding your hands in your lap. “Yes, sir.”

“Take them off.” The hesitation on your face was clear and Sam’s gaze turned cold. “Do I need to ask again?”

“No, sir,” you replied instantly, shifting in your seat to remove the panties. Sam held out his hand and you passed them to him. Tucking them into his pocket, he smiled again, patting the seat next to him.

“C’mere,” he ordered.

The car slowed with the traffic and Sam leaned in, nuzzling against your throat. You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent, moaning when his lips caressed your skin. 

“My perfect pretty girl.” The words were mumbled against your skin and Sam’s hand cupped your breast through your dress, his thumb finding your pert nipple easily. “So good for me.” You arched, whimpering when he pulled away. “You’re learning very quickly,” he commented, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence. Sam pointed out a few landmarks and when the car started to slow, he looked at you, smiling.

“Dean should be waiting for us in the penthouse.” You scrambled for what you knew about the place, the Winchesters main residence in the city. It was on the Upper East Side, 5th Avenue, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods, and they owned the entire apartment block where their luxury penthouse was located. With views over Central Park, it was about as high-end as you could get in New York.

Sam climbed out of the car, offering you his hand. It was already dark out, the city still bustling with life, but with Sam, it was like people  _ knew _ to move out of his way. The way he carried himself, towering above most other people, was more intimidating than any person you’d ever met.

You followed him almost meekly into the building and toward the elevator. Greeting the security staff, Sam swiped his key card for the private elevator and waited for the doors to open. When it did, he gestured for you to go first, walking in and standing beside you as the doors closed.

Nerves bubbled away in your stomach as Sam clasped his hands in front of him, rocking on his heels. “I really hope you enjoy what we’ve got planned tonight,” he said, keeping his eyes on the LED display above the doors. “I know I’m going to.”

A lump started to form in your throat. “I hope so too, sir,” you whispered, looking down at the floor.

The elevator stopped at its destination and Sam once again waited for you to alight before he did, acting like a perfect gentleman. You stepped into a hallway, long on either side, a plush grey carpet lining the floors. Sam pointed to the right, placing his other hand on the small of your back to guide you along the corridor.

After only a few feet, the hallway opened up into a bright lounge, big enough to fit the whole of Chrissy’s apartment into. Hell, there was a good chance your place at home would fit in the place several times over. You couldn’t help but gape in awe.

It was tastefully decorated, a large leather couch occupying most of the room, curved around a real log fireplace. Dean was already draped on the couch, his arms flung over the back as a blonde bobbed up and down on his cock.

“I thought you were gonna be here sooner,” he said, glancing over at his brother like he wasn’t getting his cock sucked. “Tania here got impatient.”

The girl looked up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and smiling brightly. “Hey.” You recognized her - Tania Evans, a well-known socialite on the New York scene. Her reputation was as a sweet delicate flower; always seen at charity events or raising money for something. 

Obviously, on her knees with her dress half pulled down over her tits, Dean’s precum still smeared across her chin, it was apparent that Tania wasn’t such a sweet little thing.

Sam must have caught onto your apprehension, taking your elbow and giving you a nudge toward the sofa. “Go. Sit. I’ll get you a drink.” You nodded, almost zombie-ing your way to the couch and sitting down a few seats from Dean. He’d tucked his cock away and Tania was now reapplying her lipstick.

“You from the city, sweetie?” Tania asked, smacking her lips together, putting her lipstick away.

“No,” you replied, eyes flickering warily to Dean. “I’m from Philadelphia.”

“Cool,” Tania giggled and you realized she was tipsy, if not completely wasted. Dean smirked, running his hand up and down the girl’s back as she sat on the edge of the couch. “I’m so nervous about tonight,” she confessed, “but Dean said you were really nice.”

You couldn’t hide the shocked look on your face, unsure of what was going on. Dean chuckled, tapping Tania’s leg. “Go get yourself a drink, baby. I’m sure Sam would like to say hello properly.” Tania’s eyes lit up and she got up from the couch, strutting toward the kitchen.

Fixing your eyes on Dean, you regarded him cautiously and he returned your look with a predatory smile.

“You never had a threesome, right?” he asked and your cheeks darkened, making him laugh again. “Oh, baby. We’re still not gonna fuck you. Not until you beg for it, remember?”

How the fuck could you forget?

“That’s where she comes in,” Dean informed you, leaning forward. “See, she’s got three pretty little holes, just begging for some big cocks to fill her up.” Your thighs shuddered and you felt wetness seep from your aching pussy. “I’ve already fucked her. Sweet little cunt. Not as tight as yours.” He grinned again. “Tania’s already had her fair share. And tonight, Daddy’s little slut is going to become Daddy’s little porn star.”

Sam reappeared and Dean looked over his shoulder, watching Tania drape herself over his baby brother. 

“How about we get started?” he asked, giving you a look. “Strip poker?”


	9. Chapter 9

Tania was in Sam’s lap, barely clothed as she licked his bare chest, writhing against him like a bitch in heat. You sat with Dean, snug in the crook of his arm as you pretended not to watch them make out. Dean was watching the movie Sam had put on, but his hand was underneath your bra, teasing your nipple with his thumb.

“Fuck, Sam,” Tania whimpered and you couldn’t help it - you turned your head to look at them, seeing Sam’s hand between her legs, two thick fingers pumping into her bald pussy. She was squealing, fucking down onto him with enthusiasm and you quickly looked back at the television.

Dean laughed under his breath. “You don’t have to watch the movie, baby. Watch them if you like.”

You kept your eyes on the screen, ignoring the wet sucking sounds of Tania’s cunt around Sam’s fingers. Dean laid his hand on your thigh, sliding it up underneath your dress. When his fingers met no resistance, he groaned, smiling at you.

“Good girl,” he praised and you felt warm in your belly.

His fingers pressed in deeper and you parted your thighs, letting him in. Dean groaned, his other hand around your shoulders squeezing your breast now. You whimpered, turning your face toward him and he smiled.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss you softly. It was almost sweet, sending a rush of fresh arousal to your core. “Watch them.” Dean moved, withdrawing his touch and patting his lap as he turned sideways. “Here.”

You crawled into his lap and his hand returned between your legs. The position let you feel his thick cock through his slacks, the outline of his erection pressing into your ass. You moaned, turning your attention to Sam and Tania.

Tania was nude now and Sam had pushed his pants down. It was the first good look you’d gotten at his cock and your mouth watered in tandem with fear pulsing in your chest.

The shaft was as thick as your wrist, at least eight inches from root to the tip, his swollen heavy crown already weeping precum. Tania gasped, almost looking afraid of it but Sam caught her hand, guiding her slender fingers to his dick. They didn’t meet when he wrapped them around his cock and Tania stared like she was hypnotized by his massive erection.

“See what I mean?” Dean murmured, two fingers buried deep inside you, his thumb pressed into your clit. “Imagine having that inside you. Splitting you open.” You groaned and ground down against Dean’s crotch. “You’d love it, wouldn’t you? Being fucked by that big fat cock until he creamed inside you.”

Your pussy squelched around his fingers and Dean laughed.

“It’s big,” Tania giggled, still stroking Sam’s length. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”

Sam grinned. “Oh, it’ll fit,” he promised, hauling her up onto the couch. Dean shifted, digging out his phone from his pocket and handing it to you with the screen unlocked and camera on. You turned your head, shocked at what he was telling you to do without saying a word.

“Don’t disobey, Y/N,” he murmured, “it’s getting done either way. I’d just like to put my hands to something else.”

With shaking hands, you lifted the camera, focusing it on Sam and Tania and pressing record just as he thrust his tongue into her cunt and she emitted a cry of pleasure. He pressed in harder and you moaned quietly when his fingers dipped into her in time with his brother’s into you.

Tania was wailing now and not the sort of sound you’d fake during sex. They were guttural, animal-like moans and grunts, her hands cupping and kneading her own breasts. Sam pulled his fingers from her cunt, pressing one into her tight little asshole. Tania shrieked but continued to grind against him as he licked her cunt and slowly fucked her ass with his finger.

“Does that look good?” Dean asked, his voice husky in your ear. “Would you like that done to you? Want my tongue in your delectable little cunt while I finger your ass?”

You hissed a  _ yes _ before your brain could stop it. Dean laughed, pumping his fingers faster inside you.

Sam got to his feet, abandoning Tania for a brief second and she mewled in loss. “Awww,” Dean muttered, “Sammy’s getting impatient to feel a tight pussy on his dick.” The younger of the two men bent down, easily lifting Tania and carrying her over to the pool table on the far side of the room. “Keep the camera on them,” Dean instructed and you obeyed without question.

The table was only two or three feet from your position and Sam flashed you a grin as he lay Tania on the table, pushing her knees up until her feet were balanced on the edge, displaying her pink little cunt for the camera.

“She’s going to scream,” Dean whispered.

Your cunt clenched around his fingers, warning of your impending climax.

He laughed.

Sam fisted his thick cock, lining the tip up with Tania’s soaked hole. Her eyes widened and she tried to push herself up, whimpering when he thrust the first inch into her tiny pussy. She screamed and you came, struggling to keep the phone still as you rolled your hips back toward Dean.

“Ooooo,” Tania wailed, squirming as Sam fed more of his cock into her, “it’s too big!”

“Shut up,” Sam growled, grabbing her hair and pushing her down, dragging his hips back and forcing the entire length of his cock into her. She screamed twice as loud as before and Sam groaned, his eyes rolled back. He dropped his head, his hair covering his face as he started to fuck the half-unconscious woman.

Her body started to accept him, slick coating Sam’s cock with each stroke and Tania moaned wantonly. She reached for Sam, begging for him to fuck her harder, fill her with his thick cock and your hands shook as you filmed.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Dean whispered, still slowly working his fingers inside you. “Not as beautiful as you’ll be all laid out with Sammy’s big cock inside you.” You held your breath, feeling the pleasure building again under his steady touch. “Do you think your belly will bulge like hers does?”

His comment drew your attention to where Tania’s stomach was hunched up and sure enough, with each punch of Sam’s massive dick inside her, her belly bulged. She was rolling her head on the table, too blissed out to do anything but cum on the thick cock spearing into her.

Sam came with a violent grunt, pressing himself as deep into the blonde’s tiny body as possible. Dean withdrew his fingers, sucking them clean before snatching the phone and ending the recording.

Tania’s legs dropped when Sam pulled away and cum dribbled out of her ruined cunt onto the pool table’s polished edge. She whimpered but Sam ignored her, strutting across the room and tucking his cock away into his pants.

You remained on the couch as Dean got up, taking photos of Tania, making sure to get her face in the photos. He smiled as he snapped each one and you frowned.

“Won’t they know it’s you?” you asked and Dean stopped, looking over at you as Sam dropped himself onto the couch at your side. “On the film. I mean… you’ll get in trouble, right?”

“Why would we get in trouble?” Sam asked, stroking his hand over the back of your shoulders. “She consented.”

“She’s drunk,” you argued and Sam raised an eyebrow at your defiance.

“Her blood alcohol level is below the driving limit. She had half a glass of wine.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “She was wasted, Sam.”

His eyes narrowed and Dean cleared his throat, tucking his phone away. Tania rolled onto her side, gasping and Dean helped her up. “Bathroom is down the hall on the right, baby,” he murmured, patting her rump gently. “Go get cleaned up.”

Tania smiled dreamily and wandered off, almost floating on tiptoes.

You stared, unable to believe she wasn’t hurt or sober. “She’s not drunk,” Dean informed you, “or high.” He shrugged, lowering himself to the other side of you on the couch. “She’s a twenty-something kid with too much money and too many copies of Fifty Shades. As crap as it was, it definitely drummed up some business for us.”

“She consented,” Sam informed you, laying his hand on your thigh, over the slowly fading bruises. “She came here with the intention of getting some dick. I gave her what she wanted.”

“And now,” Dean added, tapping the phone in his pocket, “her daddy will give us what we want.”

“You recorded her without her consent,” you whispered; Sam dug his fingers into your bruises, making you yelp.

“I think,” he murmured, “someone isn’t quite as obedient as she should be.”

Your throat tightened. “I’m sorry,” you stuttered out, shaking your head, “I didn’t -”

Dean brushed your hair back from your shoulder. “I think I know a way to teach her not to have such a smart mouth.” Sam chuckled as his brother reached for his pants. “Sam’s had his.” Reaching into his jeans, Dean pulled his cock free, stroking it from root to tip and you licked your lips without even thinking about it.

It wasn’t as big as Sam’s but it was big enough. Thicker, maybe. 

Dean arched into his own hand.

“Show me how you suck cock, Y/N.”


	10. Chapter 10

You woke up with the taste of Dean’s cum still on your tongue.

Climbing out of bed, you shuffled to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and checking the state of yourself in the mirror. Your hair was all over the place and you were still wearing the dress from last night, sans panties which were still in Sam’s possession.

Spitting the toothpaste out, you looked up as the door opened and Chrissy stuck her head in. “Everything okay? You got in pretty late last night.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, wiping your mouth on your hand. “I’m okay.”

“Where were you?”

“Upper East Side,” you replied, turning the tap off and putting your toothbrush back in the holder before pushing past the other woman to go back to your room. Chrissy followed, shock on her face.

“You went to their penthouse?”

Her only answer was a noncommittal shrug and you tried not to smile at her impatient huff. She was obviously a woman who liked to know all the dirty little details. “I’m not really supposed to share details,” you said, looking over at her where she stood in the doorway of your bedroom. “So you’ll have to use your imagination.”

“Did you fuck them?”

Your blood warmed but you shook your head. “No,” you sighed. “Look, I’m pretty tired and I gotta be at the club in an hour.”

Chrissy sucked in a breath. “Oh, no, Elle called. She said you have an appointment at two and she’ll pick you up at one thirty.”

The remnants of last night started filtering back to you and you wiped at your eyes. “Shit, I forgot. Yeah… um. Thanks.” You gestured to your pile of laundry. “I’m gonna get some stuff done, if you don’t mind?”

Thankfully, Chrissy took the hint and you sank down onto the bed as the door closed behind her, dropping your forehead into your hands.

Fuck.

_ “That’s it, pretty girl. You look so beautiful with a cock in that sweet little mouth.” _

Tingles spread through your lower body and you shuddered. Dean had been gentle, at first. You’d never sucked dick like they’d shown you last night. You could still feel the weight of Dean’s hand on the back of your head as his cock filled your throat and choked you.

_ “You’re gonna belong to us, Y/N.” Sam’s hand cupped your cheek as he leaned in a kissed you, not caring that his brother had cum down your throat only moments before. “I’ve got an important function on Tuesday night. Charity business. And you’re going to go with me.” _

He’d had Castiel drive you home. You didn’t see Tania again and you told yourself she’d gone home, trying to ignore the jealousy at the possibility they’d fucked her once you’d left. You had no reason to be jealous.

The Winchesters were dangerous. You had a job to do.

You needed a copy of the video from last night. Proof of blackmail. That was a start.

Elle turned up for you at one thirty on the dot and you were outside, waiting. Climbing into the black sedan, you smiled at Benny, who gave you a simple nod. “Good afternoon, Elle.”

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to be so formal with me,” she smiled, tilting her head as you closed the door, “you’re not one of my clients.”

“Hi,” you amended, smiling back at her, settling into your seat beside her.

“Did either one of those neanderthal men tell you what this appointment is for?”

“No?”

Elle’s perfectly painted lips curled upward. “We’re going to visit a very good friend of mine. His name is Cain and he is the most sought after stylist on both sides of the Atlantic. He happens to be in great debt to Sam and Dean.”

From what you’d seen so far, you theorized that Cain was not the only one in significant debt to the Winchesters. But you asked the question anyway. “What kind of debt?”

The other woman’s gaze was serious. “The life kind.” Your mouth twisted into a little “o” and you fell silent. The car turned a corner and Benny groaned. “What?” Elle demanded.

“Traffic, Mistress,” he muttered in irritation. “We might be late.”

“Cain will wait,” she dismissed.

“Why does Sam want to take  _ me _ to a charity event?” you asked, shaking your head, entirely puzzled. “Is it some kind of kinky thing?”

Elle laughed, patting your knee. “Oh, no, sweetie. He sometimes takes girls from the club as eye candy. Keep up the billionaire playboy thing. It’s a dinner with people who are wealthy enough to end world hunger but decide to eat lobster and promote the label.”

“And he takes the girls because… he doesn’t date?” The question was hesitant and for some reason, Elle found it hilariously funny.

“Sam… doesn’t date, no. Neither of them do. Dating is beneath them.” She adjusted her position in her seat, the sly smile still on her lips. “They take what they want when they want.”

Your next words tumbled out with regret swift on their heels. “Like Sam does with you?”

Elle’s posture stiffened, her eyes growing cold for a second. “I give nothing to Sam unless  _ I _ want to. He gets something from me that not many others could give him. But I’m not the sort of woman you keep.” The warmth returned to her expression. “Not like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you chewed on your bottom lip, remembering Amelia. “Doesn’t Sam get bored?”

“Not with you.”

“Why?”

“John Winchester.”

The name of the family patriarch made you pause. You hadn’t met him, hadn’t been given any instruction with regard to him. Your interest was in the sons. And as far as they were concerned, John wasn’t involved.

“I don’t understand,” you admitted after a few seconds. “I’m just a girl who fucked up her life.”

Elle wasn’t looking at you now; her gaze was on something outside the tinted window. “John Winchester is only interested in one thing. The Family Business. Sam won’t marry and Dean won’t marry anyone that wouldn’t take his brother too. If they don’t have kids -” 

Your eyes widened.

“The family business doesn’t get passed down,” she finished. “You get where I’m going with this?” You nodded but remained quiet, trying not to think of Ben, of the life you’d planned. The things you still intended to go home to. “You were in the right place at the right time,” Elle said, returning her gaze to you. “The others they’ve shared… none of them could last. None of them had what you had.”

“What do I have?” you whispered, feeling more than a little fearful now.

Elle smiled. “Innocence.”

*****

The image looking back at you in the mirror wasn’t you. It was underneath the makeup, fresh haircut, manicured and painted nails. Behind you, Elle smiled, pulling your hair back over your shoulders. “I think the Winchesters are going to be impressed.”

“Is Dean going, too?” you asked, meeting her eyes in the reflection.

“No,” Elle muttered, her fingers on the lobe of your left ear. “You’ve only had your ears pierced once? We’ll have to get you some jewelry.” She clicked at Cain, who nodded and disappeared. “The charity extended the invite to the entire Winchester family. Dean isn’t much of a social butterfly but Sam -” She sighed, shaking her head. “Sam could charm anything out of anyone if he tried hard enough.”

You hummed quietly, already aware of that fact. “So… John and Mary will be there.”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Have you ever been to a dinner like this before?”

“I went to a few balls in my hometown,” you replied, “not anything like I’m imagining this will be.”

Elle smiled, looking over her shoulder as Cain returned, carrying a black velvet box about the size of a vinyl record. “Ah, the Elysium set! Perfect choice.” You stood still as she opened the box, pulling out a long necklace, set with sapphires at five points around a large circular diamond. It dazzled in the lights and you swallowed, watching her approach. She lifted the jewels over your head, settling them around your neck with the large circular piece in the middle. “Sam likes this one.”

You could see why. Once fastened, the necklace looked like a collar and was just tight enough against the hollow of your throat that you were aware of it with every movement. Elle stepped back.

“Now, we just have to find the dress.” She paused, giving you a grin. “Flats?”

“I thought Sam wouldn’t like that?” you answered meekly, earning yourself an amused look. Cain chuckled behind you.

“Sam will want you comfortable,” she insisted, “and you’re going to have enough to deal with without falling flat on your face.”

*****

The rest of Monday was spent clothes shopping, this time in high-end stores you could never dream of affording. Elle took complete charge, chattering away about different fabrics and shades. When it came to lingerie, she picked out a lovely balconette bra but avoided the panties.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, winking at you, “I know Sam’s particular fetish for girls going commando.”

Your cheeks felt neon with shame.

Back at the club, Elle ran through the dos and don'ts of higher class dining. By six, she was sending you home in Benny’s company - he dropped you to the curb outside Chrissy’s apartment and left without waiting for you to go inside.

Chrissy wasn’t home from work yet and you didn’t know what time she’d get there. Taking a shower seemed like too much effort, so you collapsed into your bed, running over your instructions for the morning.

Elle had told you to sleep in and get to the club for midday, bathed and freshly shaved. The charity dinner was at 8pm - she intended for you to get ready at the club, allowing her to help with your makeup and hair. 

You didn’t know whether you’d be seeing the Winchesters tomorrow.

It was getting harder to ignore your anticipation when you thought of them. Although Dean had repeated his instruction that you weren’t to cum without permission, you couldn’t stop your hand sliding down under the covers as you lay in your bed.

The first touch of your fingers came with a jerk of your hips - the constant arousal had left you on edge. You knew it wouldn’t take long to relieve the ache in your belly.

Dean’s voice lingered in the back of your head, warning of punishment but you pushed it away. You needed this, needed that release but you couldn’t quite...

“Gah,” you choked in frustration, dropping your hand onto your thigh, right over the fading bruises. Pain sparked from the site, echoing deep in your core and you gasped.

Pressing your fingers lightly against the biggest of the marks, you resumed the tiny circles on your clit with your forefinger. The pain increased the pleasure, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your fingers dug deeper into the bruises, nail marks sure to be left behind -

The orgasm crashed over you, making your body shudder violently, hips jerking as you dragged your hands away and let them fall at your sides. Your heartbeat raced in your ears and you let your eyes close, sighing happily as bliss rolled through you.

You slept a dreamless sleep that night.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean and Sam were waiting for you when you entered Elle’s office, flanking either side of her desk like guard dogs. Elle gave you a smile, glancing at each man in turn. “She’s all yours, boys. Have her back to me at five.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam rumbled, winking at the club manager. Dean offered you his hand and you took it without hesitation, genuinely happy to see them and trying not to think about that feeling too much. He tugged you back toward the door, out into the hall, Sam following behind.

When Dean led you past the usual room, toward the smallest one you’d seen on your tour with Elle. The room that had only contained a frame, shaped like a cross and made from polished wood.

That room had both worried and intrigued you.

He opened the door, guiding you through, walking you to the imposing frame that took up most of the room. The floor was tiled in marble, the walls a deep dark red and thick blackout curtains covered the windows, leaving the only light source as the hall lights and several small lamps that line the walls.

Sam shut the door and the click made you jump.

“Don’t be frightened,” Dean chuckled, pulling you against his body, humming as he ran his hands down over your ass. “Y’know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking,” he lifted his thumb, dragging your bottom lip down, “about your sweet little mouth.”

You sucked in a breath and Dean pushed you back a little.

“Take off your clothes.” The command was softly spoken but you rushed to obey, stripping down your clothes and folding them into a pile and looking around somewhere to place them. A dresser in the corner caught your attention and you hurried over, putting the clothing down and returning to Dean’s side at the crucifix.

His expression was lit up with pride. “You’re a quick learner,” he murmured, cupping your cheek and drawing you in for a kiss. The praise made you feel light as a feather and when the kiss finished, you stood, waiting for instructions.

Sam was taking his clothes off, folding them and placing them next to yours. “But she’s broken a rule,” he said slowly, not looking over at you.

A cold chill gripped your spine. His head turned, dark eyes fixed on you as he approached, bare feet making a slight sucking sound on the marble flooring. You shuddered, feeling Dean’s presence in front of you.

“She touched herself last night,” Sam murmured, lifting your chin with one finger.

Dean clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. “Bad girl.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears in your eyes. “I was just… I was thinking about you and…”

“Sssh, ssh,” Sam released your chin, stroking your cheek, “don’t worry. We’re not going to punish you today. I need you perfect for tonight.” He smiled disarmingly and you allowed yourself to relax a little. “Today, we have some things you need to learn. Memorize.”

You nodded slowly, eyes following Dean as he started to strip down to his boxers. “We’re going to teach you the positions we expect when we’re here. When we’re playing.” Playing seemed like far too tame a term for what you were doing but you repeated your nod, listening intently.

“And the first position you need to learn,” Sam continued, “is kneeling.” Kneeling sounded easy. Sam tilted his head, still smiling as Dean handed him a thin riding crop, possibly the same one he’d used on you before. “On your knees, pretty girl.”

You lowered yourself slowly, spreading your hands out either side to keep your balance. Tucking your legs under your body, you settled with your heels under your ass, hands folded in your lap. Dean chuckled, folding his arms across his muscular chest.

“Close,” he commented.

Sam stepped forward, leaning down far enough to press the crop between your knees. “Spread your legs.” You obeyed, shifting your legs until they were three inches or so apart. He shook his head. “More.” Again, you obeyed but he repeated the order. “More. I want your pussy lips on the floor.”

It was cold when you sank down, feeling the marble against your sensitive labia. You shuddered, looking up at Sam, feeling small and helpless on your knees in front of him. It didn’t help his erection was tenting his underwear only inches from your face.

Your knees felt like they were creaking on the hard floor. Sam circled you, tapping crop against your lower back. “Straighten your back. Push those pretty tits out for us.”

A whimper caught in your throat as you did what he commanded, rolling your shoulders back. Your nipples stiffened in the air conditioned room and Dean smiled, watching his brother assess your position.

“This position is the most basic,” Sam instructed, using the crop to lift your chin. “You kneel, like this, when I command you to.”

“Yes, sir,” you choked out, blinking away tears of humiliation. The cold floor was making your pussy ache and Sam lowered the crop, pressing it against the top of your slit, against your clit. You gasped, trying not to move when he rubbed the leather tip into you.

“You’re not allowed to cum. And don’t expect sympathy after you’ve broken the rules. You cum -” His lips curled up in a smile. “You get punished.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dean picked up a pair of cuffs. “Kneel is easy,” he said, “and she’s a smart girl.” Sam stepped back, pulling the crop away, letting Dean take over. “Time for my favorite. An oldie but a goodie.” You swallowed nervously as Dean took the crop from his brother, coming closer to you. “The command is ‘present’. Lean forward.”

You hunched your body down, unsure what to do with your arms.

“Hands outstretched,” Dean murmured, tapping your left elbow with the crop, “like you’re giving worship.”

“She will be,” Sam chuckled, earning himself a dirty look from the older man.

Ignoring Sam’s smart remark, you stretched your arms out above your head, waiting for the next instruction.

“Hands over the top of one another. Feet apart.” He was standing behind you now, the crop under the curve of your ass. “Ass up.”

Your pussy clenched as you arched, pressing your forehead to the marble floor and lifting your ass as high as you could. Dean groaned, running the crop over your swollen labia, teasing your entrance with the flared leather tip.

“I love this view,” he muttered, continuing to stroke you as your body shuddered on the cold floor. “Now,” the crop abandoned you, “crawl to Sam. On all fours.” You lifted yourself, raising your chin to look at Sam before moving slowly toward him. Dean leaned against the cross, folding his arms as he watched your bare ass wiggle.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Sam cooed, waiting for you to reach his feel. “Kneel.”

Your knees were aching from the hardness of the ground but you obeyed, looking up at him, waiting for your next order. Sam palmed the bulge in his boxers, his eyes flickering to his brother.

“You know, Dean hasn’t stopped talking about your sweet little mouth,” he murmured, running his thumb over your lips, dipping it into your mouth. You reacted instinctively from a place you didn’t want to think about, sucking on the digit and circling your tongue around the tip. Sam groaned and Dean laughed under his breath.

“That is another command she needs to know,” he pointed out. “Attend.”

Sam’s grin as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth was almost frightening. His big hand looped into his boxers, dragging his thick cock free. He was already hard as steel, cum weeping from the slit at the tip. “Suck my cock, Y/N.”

You lifted one hand, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him from root to tip. It felt heavy in your hand, warm and pulsing; you suddenly remember how Tania had looked impaled on it. Your pussy clenched and you leaned forward eagerly, sucking the tip between your lips.

Sam grunted, fisting his hand in your hair. “Keep going. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to deepthroat me.” His eyes flashed. “Yet.”

The taste of his cock was thick and rich, uniquely Sam. You could smell the expensive body wash on his skin, and when your fingers brushed his pubic hair, the brown curls were soft against your skin. Sam’s hand tightened on the back of your head.

“Concentrate, pretty girl.”

You closed your eyes, putting everything into sucking his cock, finding the spots that made him moan. Fitting more than a few inches of his generous dick into your mouth was impossible, although you had a feeling he’d be testing that theory sooner rather than later.

“Can’t wait until I can fuck your throat like a proper whore,” Sam murmured, thrusting his hips a little as you continue to work him over. Minutes ticked by, the room filled with the sound of your mouth worshipping his cock.

Sam pulled away abruptly, hauling you to your feet. Dean moved around the cross, preparing the cuffs as Sam positioned you back at the foot of it. “If I tell you ‘back cuff’, you place your hands behind your back, above your ass.” You nodded, doing as instructed and Dean smiled, nodding his head at your correct action. “If I say ‘front cuff’,” you moved your hands to your front in the same manner, hoping you were right and Dean’s smile grew, “good girl. Fast learner.”

Your eyes darted to the cross, wondering if they were going to use it but Dean snapped his fingers, getting your attention back on him.

“You keep your eyes on me or Sam at all times we are alone. You are  _ ours _ , Y/N. That means you do as you’re told.” Sam pressed up behind you and you gasped, feeling his cock against the crack of your ass. Dean smiled, stepping forward and fastening the cuffs around your hands. “Now. Let’s get down to the rest of the lesson.”


	12. Chapter 12

Your limbs ached. The afternoon had stretched on for hours, teasing little touches nowhere near enough to get you off and the Winchesters knew it. They’d drilled positions into you, ways they wanted you to behave. Sam had instructed you again to speak only when spoken too at the charity dinner and left you to Elle, heading off to get ready himself.

“Dean doesn’t like these events,” you murmured as she led you into one of the dressing rooms where your dress for the night was already picked out. It was a floor-length deep blue gown, sleeveless with a dipped neckline that would give someone of Sam’s height the perfect view of your cleavage.

The jewels she’d picked out sat on the dresser.

“No,” Elle sighed, “and he doesn’t particularly like Sam going, but one of them has to be the face of the business.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Dean would be the black sheep of the family if his father wasn’t twice as bad as him.”

You shuddered, remembering that you would likely meet the senior Winchester that evening. “What’s John like?”

“Never met him,” she admitted. “John likes his privacy.” She started to brush through your hair, being a gentle as she could. “You haven’t talked much.”

You shrugged. “I don’t, really. My brother was always the talker.”

One of Elle’s immaculate eyebrows arched. “Brother? What about the rest of your family?”

“I check in with my mom,” you murmured, “but the rest of the family… they stopped talking to me after what happened.”

“With the drugs.”

Nodding in confirmation, you met her eyes in the mirror. “I wanted to be a cop when I was a kid. My dad was one. A detective.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “He was so proud when I got onto the force. But then… I got into debt. Got desperate. One of the other guys suggested shifting some evidence to cover it but… then I got caught and took the fall for the whole thing.”

“So you decided to come to New York?”

Scoffing a laugh, you watched her pick up a set of curling irons and turn them on. She held them in her hand, waiting for the story. “No,” you continued, “I lost my apartment. My fiance. My mom… her place was too small and my brother wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Your father?”

“He had a heart attack about four years ago,” you said honestly, real tears stinging your eyes. “I’m just glad he never had to be disappointed in me.” Sniffing, you wiped at your nose, just before a tissue appeared between the other woman’s fingers and she handed it to you. “Chrissy was a friend from college. She offered me a place to stay and told me about the job…”

Elle’s hand came to rest on your shoulder. “You’re not at rock bottom,” she said, interrupting you gently. “You’re lucky. Sam and Dean are,” she paused, searching for the right words, “unorthodox in the way they care for people. I won’t lie and say they’re good men but they take care of their women.”

Your next question was your downfall in connecting with the other woman. “What about Marie?”

Her expression turned to steel and her eyes narrowed. “We should really get you ready.” You fell silent and when Elle returned to your hair, she tugged a little harder than she had before.

*****

You had to admit, you weren’t quite expecting the glitz and glam of the dinner. It was being held in one of the municipal buildings and when Castiel pulled the car to the front, right by the red carpet, your heart leaped into your throat.

“Are you nervous?” Sam asked, amusement in his voice as you surveyed the people gathered on the carpet. “Don’t worry, they’ll only want photos of the celebrities.” He waited for the usher to open the door, meeting Castiel’s eyes in the mirror briefly.

The driver nodded and you frowned, wondering what the silent communication was about. When the door opened, your attention returned to the nerve-wracking thought of what was to come. Sam grabbed your hand, helping you out of the car, holding his arm out for you to take.

Cameras were flashing and you kept your head down as Sam led you along the line of posing celebrities and journalists. Like always, the crowd parted before him like the goddamn red sea, Sam’s confidence pouring off of him while you felt like the tiniest of specks next to him.

All of the women were so glamorous. You were so far out of your depth, you may as well have been at sea.

“Just keep smiling,” Sam murmured, withdrawing his arm and placing his hand on your lower back. Forcing a small smile onto your lips, you let him guide you through security to the inside of the huge building.

“Samuel!”

Sam’s eyes rolled at the call of what you knew wasn’t his name. A short man appeared in the crowd, grinning wildly and waving - Sam groaned. “Gabriel,” he replied curtly, looking straight over the guys head. “Don’t call me that.”

Gabriel’s eyes flickered to you, his eyebrows lifting the slightest amount. “Well, you won’t let me call ya Sammy,” he quipped, “and you are definitely the son of the Devil.” Your eyes went wide as he winked at you; you hadn’t seen someone be so flippant to Sam. “Speaking of Daddy Dearest, I heard he was here tonight.”

“Only just arrived myself,” Sam said casually, tossing his hair over his shoulder. His hand on your waist tightened as Gabriel looked at you directly. “Sorry, where are my manners? Y/N, this is Gabriel. Gabriel, my date, Y/N.”

_His date?_

“It’s Gabe,” the other man corrected, taking your hand abruptly. “Charmed.” He bent and kissed your hand, smiling.

Your nerves got the better of you; snatching your hand from Gabriel’s hold, you turned to Sam, your smile becoming shaky. “I need the restroom,” you whispered and he smiled back, pointing at a side door.

“Go through there, it’s the second left, baby.”

“Alone?”

The smile became a smirk. “I trust you to hurry back,” he said, keeping his voice low as he leaned in and brushed his lips against the shell of your ear, “and do hurry back, pretty girl.” His hand slipped to your ass, tapping it lightly and you blushed, not sparing him another glance as you rushed off.

Through the door was a long corridor, lined with huge paintings of historical figures and ceiling to floor windows. Darkness was only stopped by the light pollution of the city and as you turned to go left like Sam had said, a giggle made you turn. There weren’t many people down here, two or three at the far end but behind you, you saw two figures in the corner. The man’s face was visible and vaguely familiar; his handsome, angular features only enhanced by his startlingly dark gaze. He smirked when he met your eyes, his hands on the blonde woman in his arms.

She moaned, making it obvious what he was doing and you backed away, rushing to the girls room. It was empty and you took a moment, staring into the mirror.

Two minutes later, you were back at Sam’s side - the couple in the hallway were gone.

You didn’t say anything to him, letting him take you back into his hold, his fingers grasping your waist. Gabriel was gone but a tall dark man had taken his place and his expression was full of interest when it landed on you. “My, my, Sammy,” he drawled, “she is a prize. I see what you mean.”

Sam chuckled, smiling down at you. “Y/N, I want you to meet my father. John Winchester. Dad, this is Y/N.”

John didn’t move to take your hand or do anything but the smile on his face was enough to have your thighs shuddering under the expensive dress. “It’s a pleasure,” he murmured; you could see where Sam and Dean got their intensity from. When his gaze went beyond you and his eyes darkened further, you shuddered. “Mary,” he growled, “was wondering where you were.”

A woman brushed past you and you stiffened, recognizing the blonde hair and red dress. The woman in the corridor. Who had been doing… things… with someone that definitely wasn’t her husband.

Mary hooked her arm through John’s although he didn’t seem to favor the interaction. In all honesty, she seemed drunk; her pupils were larger than they should have been and when she fixed her attention on you, you saw a sliver of disgust.

“Mom,” Sam said, his jaw clenched, “this is Y/N.”

You held out your hand this time and Mary smirked, taking it. “Where did you find this one, Sammy?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of you. “I’ve told you about bringing girls from that place.”

“She’s not,” Sam answered coldly, his fingers flexing around your waist. It was easy to pick up on the unpleasant atmosphere between Sam and his mother, and for a moment, you were unsure what to do.

They called everyone through for the meal and you almost folded in relief as John led Mary away. Sam sighed, rubbing your side.

“C’mon,” he muttered, “ignore Mom. She doesn’t mean to be so -” He snorted, shaking his head and you nodded, looking up at him earnestly. Cupping your cheek with one hand, Sam smiled, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”


	13. Chapter 13

The food was delicious and you suddenly realized how many meals you’d been skipping recently. Sam noticed your ravenous appetite, coming to the same conclusion you did. Everyone else was chatting away and didn’t seem to care when he leaned over close to whisper in your ear.

“You’ve not been looking after yourself, pretty girl,” he warned and you shuddered, feeling his hand on your thigh underneath the table. “We’ll have to put some rules in place. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Your cheeks filled with heat as you looked up, meeting John’s eyes. Mary noticed the look her husband was giving you and lifted her chin, reaching out for her wine.

“So, Sammy,” she cooed at her son, “how did you and Y/N meet?”

Sam stiffened beside you but forced a smile onto his face as your relationship suddenly became the center of the conversation. You had no idea what lie he was going to tell but you were apparently good at keeping up with them. “Actually, we knew each other years ago, when I was at Stanford,” he provided smoothly, hanging his arm around the back of your chair, giving you a dazzling smile that turned your inside to mush.

“Oh, so she knew Jessica?” Mary asked.

It hit the target - Sam’s mouth became a thin smile that only screamed a warning. You knew who Jessica was. Jessica was Sam’s college sweetheart; murdered in cold blood, a crime that remained unsolved. “No. Before. She transferred out here to be closer to her mom. She’s actually from Philly.”

Mary’s eyes slid to you. “Doesn’t she talk?”

You laughed nervously, the sound bursting out of you unexpectedly. “Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with your napkin. “Sam said you were all really nice but I’ve been so nervous -” Leaning, you perfected the act. “He kept assuring me that I’d be okay but I have to confess, I’m not really sure of how I’m supposed to behave at these things.”

One of the other guests nudged you with her elbow. “You get used to it, sweetie. It’s all male posturing and we get a chance to wear sparkly diamonds and pretty dresses.”

Sam chuckled beside you as you smiled back at the unknown woman. “Oh, that part I got,” you giggled. “Although I had to wear flats. I think Sam’s used to girlfriends who wear heels.”

“Girlfriend?” Mary asked, leaning her elbow on the table and sipping at her wine. “I wasn’t aware Sam was even dating.”

John’s eyes were still on you, that sly smile on his face. “Well, now, honey, Sam’s a big boy,” he drawled. “He doesn’t have to tell us every little detail of his life.”

“We’ve only just sorta rekindled,” you provided, putting all your energy into the faux persona. At this point, you weren’t sure if you were trying to impress Sam or do the job. Either way, he was smiling and the guests at the table were all relaxed, despite the atmosphere Mary was trying to impose on them. “Getting to know each other after all these years.”

You turned your head to Sam and tried not to be shocked at the genuine smile on his face. He lifted his hand, placing it over yours on the table. “I wanted tonight to be our first public outing,” he said, staring at you, “so to speak.”

“I hear wedding bells,” one of the older women chortled and everyone joined her in laughing. The conversation moved onto the subject of weddings, commenting on the various society events both past and present. You settled into your food, very aware that Sam was a little closer than before.

John didn’t stop looking at you.

The meal ended and the band started to play as the servers cleared the plates. Mary got up from her seat, approaching Sam and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Spare a dance for your mother?” she asked and he smiled, obviously a little more at ease than he had been.

“Of course,” he submitted, getting to his feet.

“I’m gonna go out for some air,” you said and he nodded, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Don’t stray too far, pretty girl,” he instructed quietly.

You nodded, watching the two of them move away, keeping watch for a second before getting up from your seat.

At the far end of the large hall, there was a balcony with open windows, obviously intended for smokers. When you stepped out, it was chilly and you wrapped your arms around your body, staring out over the city. You closed your eyes, thinking about the various bits of information you’d picked up that evening.

“Would you like my jacket?”

John’s thick voice startled you and you turned, noticing in dismay that everyone had gone back inside, leaving you alone with the Winchester patriarch. “N - no,” you stuttered. “I’m okay. Actually, I was about -”

“You’re a very pretty girl, Y/N,” he interrupted, closing the space between you. “I didn’t think Sam would ever find someone that would keep his attention. But you’re so full of…” John inhaled, now only inches from touching you. “Goodness.”

 _Goodness_.

“Sam will be looking for me -” you tried but John blocked your way.

“You don’t have to be frightened of me, sweetheart,” he chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I mean, if Sam decides to keep you, you’ll be family. And I’m sure,” he lowered his voice, drawing one hand out to grasp your chin, “you’ll be very happy callin’ me Daddy.”

Your core throbbed and only a mewl escaped your throat. John was getting closer and the doors were open - anyone could see. You stepped back, the concrete balcony at your back, a three storey drop behind you.

“Dad,” Sam’s voice snapped through the haze like a whip and relief flooded you. The younger man appeared, towering over his father with narrowed eyes. “I’ve told you before.” He stepped to your side, taking hold of your elbow as he spoke quietly. “If you want to play with my toys, you have to ask.”

John smirked; outrage blossomed in your chest and you pulled your arm away. “I’m not a toy,” you hissed and Sam’s entire demeanor changed. His eyes turned stone cold and his grip on your arm was painful, making you squeak indignantly. “Sam!”

“If this is the one, Sammy,” John growled, “you’d best get her under control.” He leered at you as Sam pulled you against his chest. “I’d be happy to lend a hand.” Your thighs warmed and Sam gripped your chin.

“Don’t show me up, Y/N,” he seethed, “or I’ll let my father fuck you right out here for everyone to see.”

You went still at the threat, nodding slowly, trying not to acknowledge the spark of arousal at the thought of John taking what he clearly wanted. “I’m sorry, sir.” John groaned and Sam smirked.

“Good girl.” He stroked your face with one finger, tipping your chin up. “Maybe we should call it a night. Our ride is here anyway.”

John paid attention at that. “Your brother?” Sam nodded in confirmation, barely sparing his father a glance as he looked into your eyes. “I need to speak to him.”

“Then call him,” Sam snapped. “I’m not his fucking secretary.”

A smile stretched across John’s lips. “You boys behave now,” he said, turning away, continuing to speak over his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.” He was clearly laughing as he walked away, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

You had a mind to tell him you’d seen his wife in the arms of another man but there were two good reasons not to. For one, he probably wouldn’t care. And Sam would most likely throw you over the balcony for making a scene.

Or worse.

“Sam,” you hesitated, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he growled. “You impressed me earlier, Y/N, but it’s obvious you need more training. If you keep breaking the rules -”

“I won’t,” you promised, almost begging and for a second, you stopped, taking a look at yourself.

Sam dragged your focus back to him as he cupped your face, shielding the sight of you with his large body. “I know you won’t, sweetheart. Because I’m going to break you.”


	14. Chapter 14

Your knowledge of New York was limited but you knew the route to Chrissy’s apartment and the turning was four blocks ago. Dean was up front, driving his own personal car - you’d seen enough photos of it. A ‘67 Chevy Impala, black, a classic and Dean Winchester’s pride and joy.

Sam was in the back, sat with you tucked into his side. You were still wearing your outfit from the party, although Sam’s tuxedo jacket was draped around your shoulders. He hadn’t spoken to you since he’d dragged you out the door, his mood drastically different to what it had been.

“Where are we going?” you asked, meekly. Sam didn’t look at you, staring out of the window as the car moved slowly through the late night city traffic. “Sam?”

“Be quiet.”

You sank down, meeting Dean’s eyes in the mirror. Letting your hands rest in your lap, you looked out of the opposite window, trying to figure out what street you were on. Your phone was in your clutch purse, tucked by your thigh.

Using it didn’t seem to be an option.

Dean turned the car off onto the exit ramp for the highway and your heart rate elevated. Where were they taking you?

“Relax,” Sam murmured, his thumb brushing over your collar bone, making you shiver. “You’re safe.”

You nodded, remaining quiet as Sam pulled you into his side a little more.

By the time the city lights had faded into countryside, you were asleep.

The Impala rolled to a stop, jolting you awake and you sat up, instinctively reacting to the warm body beside you violently. Sam grabbed your wrists before you could hit him, smirking in amusement. “Calm down, sweetheart,” he soothed, lowering your arms as you remembered where you were.

Dean chuckled, getting out of the car and it shook with his movement. “Where are we?” you asked sleepily, yawning. Car snoozing always seemed to leave a lingering effect that just made you want to sink into bed.

“Outside the city,” Sam murmured, opening the door. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed. You’re a bit of a lightweight, darlin’.” You smiled with your eyes barely open and when Sam swept you from the back seat, you didn’t protest, letting him carry you toward the front of the expansive property.

There was a man on the door, dressed in a suit, clearly security. Tall, though maybe not as tall as Sam, his posture screamed military and his stern expression was more than a little intimidating. He stood to attention as Sam climbed the steps and nodded. “Evening, boss.”

“Gadreel,” Sam muttered, carrying you through the door, “go help Dean with the car, would ya?” Gadreel nodded, striding off toward where the Impala was parked.

“I don’t have my clothes,” you whispered, head resting against Sam’s shoulder as he carried you through the expansive lobby toward an ornate staircase. “Or my -”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, ascending the stairs carefully. You yawned again, letting his commandment put you at ease. Sam didn’t stop, making it to the landing of the two story house and turning left down a large hallway. He stopped at the far end, opening the door a little awkwardly with you in his arms. “You should sleep.”

“Sam?” you whimpered as he lay you down, pulling your shoes off and removing the necklace around your throat, pocketing it.

“Yeah, pretty girl?”

His voice was soft and you smiled, eyes fluttering closed. Your question was lost in the return of slumber and Sam chuckled, dragging the covers up and tucking them under your chin. Stepping back, he regarded you for a moment, a slight frown creasing the space between his eyebrows.

Sam turned his back and left, shutting the door.

Dean was outside. “She okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his brother think for a second.

“Sleeping,” Sam muttered, “leave her be. It’s going to be a long few days.”

“You sure you wanna do this?” Dean sounded a little apprehensive and Sam flashed him a smile, giving him all the answer he needed. “Your head, man. If this doesn’t work -”

“It will,” Sam interrupted, dismissing Dean’s concern with a wave of his hand. “She’s exactly what we’ve been looking for, Dean. Don’t tell me you don’t see it.”

The elder Winchester hummed thoughtfully, glancing back at the door as he followed Sam down the hall. “I see it. But what I also see, is you getting attached.” Sam’s head snapped around, his eyes on his brother - Dean held up his hands in defense. “Not a bad thing but -”

“But nothing.” Turning to face his brother, Sam leaned one hand on the railing. “We’ll let her sleep until she wakes up. Until then -” He sneered unpleasantly. “I’m going to kick your ass at Xbox.”

*****

It took a second when you started to stir, still dressed in the evening gown, to realize where you were. Or rather, where you  _weren’t_. The walls above you weren’t damp-stained like Chrissy’s apartment and the bed was so much more comfortable, you briefly considered that you might have died and were on some fluffy cloud.

You sat up, looking around. The bedroom was huge. Windows that occupied half the wall were on one side, the other three bare except for red wallpaper and a few pictures of generic landscapes that happened to be the right shades. It was basically, a guest room; nothing personal but luxurious enough for one staying the night.

Sliding yourself out of the massive four poster bed, you noticed your feet were bare. Without anything to change into, you were stuck in the dress; they’d brought you here last night.

You’d left your phone in the car, in your clutch. What if they’d -

The little purse sat on the side and you quickly grabbed it, almost toppling off of the huge bed where you’d been propped on the edge. Finding your phone, still locked and in the same spot, was a relief and you frowned when you saw all the unanswered notifications from Ben on the lock screen. It was nearly one in the afternoon.

They’d let you sleep. Sam and Dean had driven you out to the middle of nowhere and… let you get a good night’s rest.

The frown on your face deepened with your confusion and you crossed the room, phone in hand. Opening the curtain only revealed a bright sunny day that made you squint at first; below the window were expansive gardens, barely any other houses or anything but trees in the distance.

Glancing at your phone again, you unlocked it, ignoring all of the notifications. Your GPS was on and had you in Westchester. Which meant you were at the Winchester estate. Miles from the city. Meg would have tracked your GPS by now when you didn’t check in last night. You needed to call her and let her know you were okay and not being buried in a shallow grave.

There were protocols for this sort of thing but first, you needed to find the brothers. Clearly, they had a reason for bringing you out here and you couldn’t help but feel it had something to do with last night. Sam had said he would break you and fear welled up in your throat at the threat.

On the upside, you were now in a house that the police and FBI had been dying to search for years. If you could find something… anything…

You hid your phone in the nightstand, leaving it on silent. With nothing else to wear, you kept the dress on, surprised when you found the bedroom door unlocked. It opened silently and you stepped out into the hall, looking around.

The house was huge. You’d known that already from surveillance photos and what little intelligence could be gathered on the Winchester properties. This stately home was just one of their properties but it was the family home, the main base for when they weren’t out of the country.

Heading for the stairs, you stopped at the landing, looking up at the huge painting hanging opposite the banister. Framed in silver, which gave it a very striking look, it depicted what looked like a battle between Satan and the Archangel Michael. Both of them were nude, fighting bare knuckle, locked in an eternal tableau of struggle.

A shudder ran through you and you tore your eyes away, hearing sounds from downstairs. You padded down the steps, shivering when your bare feet hit the marble floor of the forum. The noises were clearer now - it was Dean and Sam, in the large lounge off of the entrance. Keeping quiet, you crept closer, a smile tugging on your lips when you saw what they were doing.

“You’re an asshole,” Dean snapped as Sam killed his avatar for the umpeenth time.

“No, you’re just shit,” Sam laughed back, dropping the controller onto the table and reaching forward for a slice of pizza. As he glanced back at his brother, he caught sight of you, smiling at your appearance. “Sleeping Beauty’s awake.”

Dean turned, matching his brother’s smile. “Good afternoon, sweetheart. You hungry?”

As if on cue, your stomach growled and your cheeks darkened. Sam patted the couch. “Come sit down, pretty girl. We ordered pizza.” You smiled, wandering around the end of the couch to sit on the cushions beside him. Glancing at the pizza boxes, the fresh smell making your stomach clamor for food, you noticed the untouched box was your favorite topping.

“Hey, my favorite!” Seizing the box with glee, you opened it and snatched a slice. It was the perfect warmth - you sank your teeth into it, moaning in delight. “God, that’s so good. Is this from Frankie’s? How did you get him to deliver all the way out here?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So you know where we are?”

The pizza had distracted you. Momentary excitement of something  _normal_  in what had quickly become the strangest week of your life, had made you act like… you.

You sat straight, glancing at Sam warily as you chewed and swallowed your mouthful. Relaxing around these men was not an option; you had to be more careful. “Yeah, uh, my phone was in my purse. I checked it to see what the time was and I have one of those weather apps, the ones that automatically update?” Internally, you congratulated yourself on a quick save; externally, you kept a neutral expression, taking another bite of the pizza because you were actually pretty hungry.

Dean shrugged, sitting back and picking up the controller again. Sam’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer before the smile returned to his face. “So you like the pizza?”

You nodded, smiling. “It’s my favorite.”

“I know.”

His comment made you stop, mid-chew. “How?” you asked quietly.

“There’s not a lot I don’t know about you, Y/N,” Sam murmured carefully and your heart picked up the pace, hammering through a mixture of fear and excitement. “And not a lot I can’t find out.” He sat forward, picking up his bottle of water and nodding toward an unopened bottle left on the table. “Make sure you drink something.”

Swallowing your mouthful, you silently finished the rest of the slice, pushing the box back onto the table and picking up the water. Sam watched as you drank, ignoring Dean as he played another game on his own.

“Is it, er,” you stuttered, avoiding his intense gaze as you recapped the drink and put it down, “is it okay if I have a shower?”

“Sure.”

With a pause, you took a breath. “I don’t have anything to wear,” you rushed out and both men looked at you. “I mean, I didn’t exactly pack for a vacation. And I should probably call my mom, let her know I haven’t been kidnapped or anything.”

A smile slowly crept across Sam’s lips. “You’re free to leave any time you like,” he said, although you knew he was lying through his teeth. You didn’t intend on leaving but you had to let Meg know you were okay.

Dean dropped the controller down, making you jump and look at him. “I could use a shower anyway,” he announced, getting to his feet. “C’mon, sweetheart, I’ll help you with those hard to reach areas.” Your eyes went wide and Dean smirked; Sam chuckled, leaning back into the cushions. “What, now you’re getting shy?”

He held his hand out - you eyed it warily. “I, er,” you stuttered, unsure of what to do.

“Go,” Sam ordered. “He’s only sucking at this anyway.”

Standing up, you crossed the room to Dean, sliding your hand into his. He gripped it tightly and with one last look at his brother, he tugged you toward the stairs. You kept quiet the whole way up and as you reached the landing, Dean stopped, looking back at you.

“You can stop being afraid,” he said, pulling you closer and cupping your cheek with his free hand. “I’m not gonna touch you unless you ask.” Your eyes flicked to the painting; he noticed, smirking. “Oh yeah, that thing. Our grandfather’s painting.” He shuddered, chuckling under his breath. “It’s creepy, right?”

“Kinda…” you whispered.

“Bathroom’s this way,” Dean muttered, pulling you along the hall.

The way he said it made you think you were going to see a regular sized bathroom with regular sized appliances. But of course, this wasn’t the regular sized house. The bathroom was bigger than your entire apartment at home, or near enough; one side held a large shower cubicle, one of those fancy ones that always pop up on your Facebook newsfeed. Several jets were positioned in different places along the black and white marble tiles walls.

In the middle of the room was a large claw-footed bathtub with ornate silver faucets. There was only one window, opaque with a delicate pattern of intricate lines clouding the glass. “We had this one remodelled a few years ago,” Dean drawled, dragging his shirt over his head. Your attention was instantly distracted by the sight of his muscular back and you hummed in acknowledgement of his comment. “Had some extra features installed.”

He turned to you, smiling.

“You can’t shower with your clothes on,” he pointed out.

“I - I know,” you whispered, ducking your head. Dean drew closer, cupping your face in his hands. “Dean -”

The kiss was unexpected and left you gasping for air as Dean’s almost-black eyes focused on you. His hands reached around your back, easily locating the zipper on the dress and pulling it down swiftly. You tried not to shake as he pulled the fabric off of your shoulders, letting the rest of the navy material drop to pool around your bare feet.

“That’s better,” he murmured, fingers working at your bra. When that was gone, Dean stepped back and you fought the instinct to hide yourself. “I prefer you naked.” A dangerous glint in his eyes made you stare at the floor, stiffly holding your arms at your sides.

The coolness of the bathroom made your nipples harden and Dean smirked, stroking one finger over your right breast, his amusement growing when you sucked in a breath. Wetness between your thighs made your legs quiver so when Dean turned away to the shower, you almost collapsed.

He turned the spray on, looking back at you as he undressed himself. You shuddered when he held out a hand, taking it willingly and letting him pull you into the cubicle.

Every step of the way with the Winchesters, you’d been unable to calculate their next moves, which made you uneasy in the first place. Now, with Dean being so gentle, you were aware of your senses being lulled into a false sense of security. It was like being smothered with a blanket, removing everything else until there was only them.

Dean pulled you under the spray, crushing his body into yours. His cock was already hard, pressed against your belly and you tipped your head back willingly when he bent his mouth to your throat. He sucked lightly on the skin at your pulse, chuckling when your fingers wrapped around his shoulders.

“We still haven’t talked about your little misdemeanor,” he murmured, the words warm on your skin. “You broke the rules, kitten.” Pulling back, he cupped your cheek, his smile all charm and danger. “How do you think we should punish you?”

You stared at him, shaking your head, unsure how to answer. Dean chuckled, his hand slipping down until his thumb and forefinger made a ‘v’ at your throat.

“How many times did you make yourself cum?”

His fingers tightened and you swallowed through the constriction. “Once.”

He studied you, narrowing his eyes. Seconds ticked by and when he determined you were telling the truth, he released your throat. “I think,” he pinched your right nipple, smiling when you squeaked, “you owe me an orgasm.”

Blinking in confusion, you let Dean pull you further under the spray; he angled you with your back against the cold tiled wall and released your arms.

“You’re gonna give it back to me, right now,” he instructed, wrapping one hand around his cock, his other sliding around the back of your head to fist your damp hair. “Get on your knees.”

You dropped, the small space forcing you to balance on your knees and toes with your back against the tile. Dean looked down at you, using the grip on your hair to guide you to where he wanted you. Opening your mouth, you locked your eyes on his as he fed his cock between your lips.

“That’s it,” he grunted, releasing his hold on his length as you started to suck at the tip, “fuck, such a good girl.”

The praise inspired a flip-flop sensation in your belly and your enthusiasm for what you were doing increased, pleasing Dean. He slowly released your head, bracing himself against the tiled wall with one hand as you kept taking him deeper.

“Did you like the taste of my cum the other night?” Dean asked, the question almost a snarl. You nodded, cheeks hollowed around his dick and he groaned, tipping his head back slightly. “Deeper,” he ordered.

Inhaling sharply through your nose, you obeyed, gagging when his cock brushed the back of your throat. Dean ignored it as you frantically tried to breathe, his shaft sliding further down until your nose was buried in his pubic hair. He held you there for a moment before releasing you harshly.

You fell back against the wall, gasping for breath but Dean wasn’t done. Grabbing your hair again, he bent down, pulling you up at the same time to kiss you. When he broke away, he brushed his lips over yours softly. “When I tell you, you’re not allowed to cum,” he growled, “you’re not allowed to cum. Understood?”

Nodding, you choked out a sobbed ‘yes’, tears mingling with the shower spray on your face. Dean smirked, standing straight again.

“You gonna finish the job?” he asked and you nodded, sinking down a little lower, wrapping your fingers around his dick and stroking him slowly. Pressing your tongue to the tip, you took him in as deep as you could, eagerly bobbing up and down on his length. Dean groaned and grunted, moving his hips to meet your mouth and you hummed in the back of your throat.

Your legs ached from the position, your knees scraping against the tile floor and you could feel a cramp in your neck. Yet, none of it mattered. There was only one thing on your mind.

Dean’s fingers were in your hair again and he dragged you backward, grinning wickedly, using his other hand to keep stimulating his cock.

“Open up, slut.”

Seconds after you obeyed the command, thick spurts of cum landed on your face, coating your cheeks and lips. Dean didn’t stop until he was done, releasing you with a satisfied grunt.

You collapsed onto your ass, cum mixing with the water on your face, still trying to catch your breath. Dean looked down at you, smirking. “You look so pretty with my cum all over you, baby,” he murmured, reaching down to haul you to your feet. “But we really should get washed up before Sam comes lookin’.”


	15. Chapter 15

You felt marginally better after the shower, even though you could still feel the pounding between your thighs. The way Dean treated you was humiliating, degrading…

…arousing…

It was hard to ignore the thoughts. More and more, you were losing sight of your goal. Logically, you knew you’d let this go too far but turning back seemed impossible. You had one chance and you had to make the most of it.

Ben would understand.

Dean handed you a fluffy towel, taking your hand and walking you through the house back to your bedroom. You looked at him quizzically as he opened the door. “Call your mom,” he instructed, “last thing we need is a missing persons issue.”

“Could I, er,” you paused as Dean’s eyebrows raised, “could I have some clothes?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve got five minutes,” he instructed, turning his back and leaving you alone. Sighing, you sank down onto your bed and pulled the draw open on the nightstand. Your phone was blinking with notifications and you scrolled through them, selecting Meg’s number, which was on your phone as ‘Mom’.

“ _Y/N? Where the hell are you?_ ”

“Yeah, it’s me, hi Mom,” you said slowly, casting your eyes to the door. There was a good chance your conversation was not private.

“ _Are you okay?_ ”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“ _Can you tell me where you are?_ ”

You picked at a thread on the towel. “I needed to get away for a few days, have some alone time, y’know?”

“ _Your GPS is on, Y/N. Are you safe?_ ”

“Yes,” you confirmed and Meg sighed in relief. “Honestly, I just needed a break. I’ll call you next week, okay?” The door opened and Dean returned, dressed now in a black henley and a pair of faded jeans. “I love you, Mom.”

“ _Y/N, wait -_ ”

Dean’s hand closed over the phone, ending the call. Before you could stop him, he slipped it into his pocket, giving you a smile. “Sorry, sweetheart. But I want your full attention.” He held out his hand and you took it obediently. “Lose the towel.”

You hesitated and Dean scowled. Hurrying to obey, you dropped your eyes to the floor as he openly leered at you.

“Come with me.”

Leading you out of the bedroom, Dean headed down the hall toward the staircase. His grip on your hand was deceptively gentle and when your eyes landed on Gadreel, stood just inside the door, you tried to pull back. Dean turned with a glare, pulling you down the first few steps.

Gadreel’s head turned as you walked down, trying to shield your body behind Dean’s but he moved, intent on humiliating you further. “Are you shy, sweetheart?” Dean teased, yanking you closer. “Gadreel wouldn’t touch you. Not unless,” he glanced at the security guard, “I tell him to.”

“Please,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Hear how pretty she begs, Gad?” Dean murmured, showing you off like a prize canine. The man’s eyes hardened, his jaw clenching as he dragged his gaze down your nude body. Dean laughed, shaking his head as Gadreel smiled, returning to his original position.

They were playing with you.

Shame heated your cheeks as Dean tugged on your hand again, forcing you to follow him. The lounge was empty and the television off with Sam nowhere to be seen. Dean kept going, through the hallway past a huge kitchen, finally coming to a stop by one door.

“Sam should be waiting for us,” he muttered, opening the door and guiding you inside.

The room was lit by lamps around the sides of the room. It was decorated in bare stone, striking a stark contrast to the rest of the house. Things lined the walls - when you looked closer, you realized the things were handcuffs, whips, canes, sex toys of all shapes and sizes. Dean kept walking until he was stood in the middle of the room by a table similar to the one at the club. This one was more of an ‘x’ than the other, made of metal instead of wood. It looked… clinical.

“She give what she owed?” Sam’s voice muttered from the darkness and he emerged, predatory smile on his face. Dean nodded, letting your hand drop.

“Yeah, she did,” the elder brother smirked, giving you a sideways look.

“Guess it’s time for her punishment,” Sam drawled and you stiffened, wanting to deny it; Dean had already punished you. You didn’t say a word, unsure of the rules here and Sam chuckled, closing the distance between you, crowding you against the metal table. “You think you’ve already done the time?” You nodded and he laughed again. “Oh, baby. You’re so… soft. Delicate.” He cupped your chin, taking a deep breath. “Lay down.”

Shuffling back, you lifted yourself onto the frame, positioning your ass on the widest part at the middle. It was somewhat awkward to lay down, making sure your head was on the small cushioned outcrop and spreading your arms out.

Sam started with your left wrist, securing it in the leather straps. Those too were padded and when you felt Dean touching your feet, you lifted your head, seeing that he was securing your ankles into similar restraints. “We’re going to play a game,” Sam murmured, walking around the table to your right arm. He lifted the straps, sliding the leather through the buckle and flashing you a smile. “Like we did that first night. Only this time, you can only answer yes or no.”

“Unless we ask for more,” Dean added, moving his attention to fastening your other ankle to the table. Your legs were spread, your body immobilized on the frame and when their hands abandoned you, you struggled to see what they were doing.

Producing a blindfold, Sam stepped up, standing above you, looking down. “We don’t want to ruin the surprise,” he muttered, smirking as he covered your eyes. The effect was instant - your heart started to thump hard in your chest and you attempted to focus, to figure out where they were in the room. You’d been trained in this but it would appear the Winchesters were better.

All you could hear was your own steady breathing, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as the cool metal sang chills along your skin. Your nipples ached with how hard they felt in the air conditioned room and when moments ticked by, you started to panic that they’d left you there.

Fingers danced along your calf, dragging along your skin, past your knee, stopping at the faded bruises on your thigh.

“You know what you did wrong,” Sam murmured, pressing lightly into the bruising.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, wetting your lips with your tongue.

“Tell me.”

“I - I touched myself without permission.” His fingers pressed harder and your core clenched. “I made myself cum.”

“Try again,” Sam ordered.

You were sure that was the correct answer and Sam’s fingers dug harder into your thigh until you whimpered. “I stole from you,” you amended, remembering Dean’s earlier words about owing them.

“Correct.” His hand lifted from your thigh, fingers ghosting up over your core. You shuddered, the heat in your belly growing stronger. “Are you frightened?”

“No,” you whispered, truthfully. The fear had taken a backseat to humiliation, shame, and the aforementioned arousal. Dean chuckled, the sound placing him on the opposite side of your body to his brother.

“Are you turned on?” Sam asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you want us to touch you?”

“Yes, sir.”

A finger pressed into your clit and you allowed yourself a tiny moan. “You don’t have to be quiet,” Dean murmured, fingers trailing over your breasts, teasing your aching nipples. “This room is completely soundproof. And besides -”

Every touch disappeared and you gasped, lurching in your restraints. You could feel one of them standing by your head and a second later, lips pressed against the shell of your ear.

Dean laughed under his breath, letting you know it was him.

“We want to hear you scream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter of House Of The Rising Sun will be published on Friday 26th April! Thanks for all your comments, guys!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra warning for knife play and blood play in this chapter...

Sweat covered your skin. Your body ached, your core screamed with arousal and you couldn’t move or see anything. You had no idea how long they’d had you in here but every second they edged you felt like an eternity.

“You want me to stop?” Sam asked, pressing the paddle against your tits where the skin was already inflamed from the leather impacting against it. Clamps held your nipples in a grip that almost turned them purple and you sobbed, shaking your head. The paddle came down again and you cried out, clenching your fists.

“N - no, sir,” you whimpered, tears soaking through the blindfold. 

It was sick. You were sick. The entire thing was tantamount to kidnapping but you knew you wouldn’t leave. Not while there was a chance you could find  _ something _ .

_ She’s bull-headed and stubborn but she’s a hell of a cop _ .

If only they could see you now. Writhing in barely contained need, desperate to cum at the hands of these twisted men. The pain only amplified the pleasure; the thought that you were pleasing them a shadow over the logical voice in your mind.

How had they twisted you so badly in only a few days?

Something metallic and cold pressed into your belly and you went still. The paddle was gone and this wasn’t another one. It wasn’t a whip or a flogger or a cane…

Knife.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” Sam muttered and the knife moved, the flat side sliding down until the point was at your side, “do you like the things we do to you?”

A fresh tear slid down your chin toward your ear. “Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“You like the pain?”

“Y - yes, sir.”

Your teeth were chattering and it was hard to stay still, feeling the knife point at your side. When it moved, you felt relief for only a brief moment until the knife returned, pressed into your left thigh. “Do you like our marks on you?” Dean’s voice this time, thick and syrupy.

This time, your answer emerged as a moan, the ‘yes, sir’ bouncing off of the walls.

“Do you want some more?” Sam asked quietly. The knife moved, the sharp edge pressed against the front of your thigh. “Answer me, pretty girl.”

“Y - yes,” you swallowed, forcing the last word out, “sir.”

Pain sang through your skin, lighting every nerve cell and you screamed, shaking uncontrollably. It was over in a second, leaving a dull throb that sent sparks to your core. Something wet trickled down your leg.

Blood.

Wet heat covered the wound. Sam moaned, dragging his tongue over the damaged flesh and you gasped, every ounce of pain soaking away into bliss.

“I think she liked that,” Dean commented, the sound of fabric rustling. You whined when Sam pulled away, chuckling and pressing his thumb lightly against the cut.

“Already stopped bleeding,” he mumbled, the knife pressing into your skin again. This time, the pain wasn’t so bad, giving way to the pleasure much quicker and when Sam’s mouth covered the fresh wound, you felt your insides clench, an incredibly pornographic moan leaving your lips.

“Has anyone ever made you ache like this?” Dean asked, his voice making you jump. You didn’t know how they moved so quietly, so in sync with each other. Dean’s mouth was against your ear, his warm breath fanning over your cheek. “Anyone ever made you want to scream like this?”

“No.” Your voice came out strained and Dean laughed quietly.

“Do you want Sammy to do it again?”

You nodded, too frightened that admitting it out loud would be making it real; you were a fool to believe it was that easy. The knife pressed into your belly this time, just below your navel, and Sam held it there, not breaking the skin.

“You know the rules, princess,” Dean breathed. “Verbal answers if you’re not gagged.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you,” a finger traced your jaw and you held your breath, heart racing furiously, “want Sammy to cut you again?”

“Yes, sir.”

The knife dragged over your belly, slicing thinly through your skin and you cried out, clenching your fists. It was the smallest of wounds, enough to let blood well up into a bead that sat there until Sam leaned down, repeating what he’d done to your thigh.

You were so close to the edge that you were sobbing and when Sam’s fingers pressed into your cunt, you screamed just as loudly as when the knife made you bleed. “She’s fucking soaked, Dean,” Sam groaned, the touch too torturously brief.

“You’ve been so good,” Dean murmured in your ear, though you could barely hear him over the sound of your own ragged breathing. “You want more?”

“N - no,” you sobbed, feeling Sam move around, between the cross of the ‘x’ where your thighs were spread open.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Dean asked and your mind raced. You knew what you wanted but voicing it would be giving it. Asking for it was exactly what they wanted.

“Amelia wasn’t this stubborn,” Sam commented casually. “She was begging within the first hour.” His hands were on your thighs now, pressing into the bruises again, refreshing them. Blood stained your skin where he’d cut you and when his fingers covered the wounds, you mewled.

“Probably why he got bored of her. No one has managed this long without begging for it,” Dean chuckled. “Tell me, princess - have you ever been bred properly?” You didn’t quite understand the question - they knew you didn’t have children. “You ever felt the warm gush of cum in your belly? Filling you up completely?” Your breath caught in your throat as Dean’s fingers stroked your face. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“F - fuck me,” you choked, closing your eyes behind the blindfold. “Please, I can’t -”

Sam laughed loudly, thrusting two fingers into your soaked core; the shock of it made you cry out. “You want Sam inside you?” Dean teased as his brother fucked his digits into you, the wet sound of your cunt making him groan.

Your eyes rolled behind their lids and you arched as much as you could in the table, begging like a whore. “Yes.”

Sam’s fingers were still inside you, crooked up against your sweet spot and you bucked against his hand, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Dean’s low laugh echoed in your ear and Sam pulled his hand away. “Do you want him bare, Y/N? Wanna feel him cum?”

“Yes,” you repeated, gasping, “I’m on depo.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Sam rumbled and Dean hummed in agreement.

“When?” he asked and you shuddered, confused for a moment. “When did you last have it?”

“A-about six weeks ago,” you stuttered out.

There was a moment of silence and you pouted, wiggling when nothing happened. The impatience of your actions made Sam laugh, one hand pressing into your lower belly, long fingers splaying over your skin. “Guess we’ll have to practice until it’s out of your system.”

You had less than a second of anticipation when Sam’s cock brushed against your folds; he sank into you in one smooth stroke, the frame rattling with the power of his thrust. A cry left your lips at the size of him, the burn of his penetration making you struggle for breath as bliss flooded you.

“She’s fucking tight,” Sam grunted, rolling his hips against you, pushing deeper with each movement.

“Do you need a minute?” Dean deadpanned, still crouched by your head. Sam replied with a swift ‘fuck off’ before drawing back, letting his cock slide free inch by agonizing inch. You cried out again when he buried himself back inside you and Dean’s hand slipped around your throat. “How does that feel, baby?”

Sam was slamming into you with vigor now, shaking the frame and you just about managed to gasp out something understandable. “Feels so good,” you whined. Dean pressed his lips against your ear again, holding your head steady as Sam fucked you harder.

“Can’t wait until it’s my turn. We’re gonna use you all night, princess. Gonna fill you over and over.”

Pleasure curled in your belly, your climax getting closer; Dean noticed the clench of your fingers, laughing at your pathetic whine.

“You’re not allowed to cum, Y/N,” he reminded you, tipping your head back a little more. “If you do, we’ll have to punish you again.” A small part of you begged for it, the part you ignored. Behind the blindfold you had your eyes squeezed tightly shut, Dean’s hand slowly clenching around your throat. “I bet you feel like a furnace inside. All wet and warm,” he groaned kissing the shell of your ear, “just waiting to be fucked.”

Sam’s sounds grew louder, his grip on your hips getting tighter as he started to pulse inside you. He groaned, using the frame to hold himself up as he emptied himself, smirking at his brother. You whimpered, your body shuddering with the need to cum, the warmth of Sam’s seed spreading through your belly.

“This is just round one, sweetheart,” Dean warned, releasing your throat. Sam pulled away, cum dripping from your abused hole onto the edge of the frame. Dean’s presence moved from beside you and you shivered in the cool air, pouting and whining needily.

“Possibly the best pussy I’ve had wrapped around my dick,” Sam commented, his voice placing him further away. The sound of a zipper lowering made your stomach churn. “You’re gonna love it.”


	17. Chapter 17

The final punishment for your transgression was abandonment. Sam removed the blindfold, smiling down at you as Dean pulled away for the last time. “You’re gonna stay here and think about what you did,” Sam instructed, stroking your cheek. You whined in protest, concern creasing your forehead.

“I don’t think she wants us to go,” Dean chuckled, pulling his pants on. “It’s only for a little while, princess.”

“O - okay,” you whispered, nodding as you stared into Sam’s eyes, completely obedient to his whims. You didn’t even know how long you’d been in that room but in all honesty, you were damn tired and felt like you could pass out.

Sam patted your cheek before disappearing out of view. A few moments later, the door shut and you closed your eyes, feeling some of the tension drain from your body. The frame was warm now, sticky in plenty of places but exhaustion outweighed your physical aches and you drifted off.

When you woke, Dean was back, alone. He stood just a few feet away, doing something at one of the thin tables and when you groaned, he turned around. “Morning, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

Instinctively, you moved your arms, remembering that the restraints held you in place. “How long was I asleep?” you asked and Dean shrugged.

“A couple hours.”

The aches were coming back to you now and you squirmed, hoping he’d release you. “Where’s Sam?”

As if on cue, the door opened and Sam walked in, wearing fresh clothes. He smiled at you, closing the door. “Right there,” Dean smirked, turning back to the table. Sam approached, still smiling, running his hand along your calf up to your thigh. You hissed when his fingers dragged over the scabbed cuts he’d made on your skin yesterday.

You shuddered, arousal returning in full leg-shaking force. “That all it takes now, pretty girl?” Sam asked, digging his thumb into the smallest of the two wounds. “Just one touch has you moaning for us?” Nodding, you kept your eyes on his and he exhaled a laugh. “You were made for this,” he murmured, taking hold of your chin, smearing blood on your jaw as he leaned in and kissed you hard.

When he broke away, you were panting and your toes were curled tightly. Dean glanced over as Sam released you, the smirk on his face growing wider.

Something beeped a little tune and your eyes went wide. Reaching into his pocket, Dean pulled out your phone, placing it on the side. “What game are we playing today?” he asked.

“She needs a break,” Sam muttered, sighing. “Pity - she looks so good just lying there, ready to be used.” He palmed his crotch, his erection already straining at the fabric. “You wanna go first?”

Dean put down the knife he was cleaning, turning to face you again. “I’m not gonna turn that offer down,” he flung back at Sam, reaching for his pants to undo them.

Your phone started to ring, blaring out the theme to Game Of Thrones. Sam peered at it, his lips curling upward in a vicious smile. “Who’s Ben?”

The blood in your veins froze. Dean was standing between your legs now, fisting his cock as he glanced at his brother. “Put it on speaker.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, please don’t -”

“ _Hello?_ ” Ben’s voice filled the room. “ _Y/N, baby, is that you?_ ”

Dean lined up and thrust into you with one hard stroke and you screamed, your aching body protesting the repeated movement. He growled loudly, grabbing your waist in one hand, the other clutching your shoulder so he could drive into you as hard as possible.

“ _Y/N?!_ ”

You couldn’t focus, too lost in the feel of Dean fucking you, to hear Sam chuckle and end the call. Laying there, tears fell, trickling down into your hair as Dean took what he wanted, slamming into you until his cock twitched and the warmth of his cum heated your core.

“Guess I owe you after all, Sammy,” Dean grunted, sliding his cock free from your body, cum dribbling down onto the frame. He walked around to your head, looking down at you panting and sweating, still needing to cum. “Clean it,” he ordered, offering you his half-hard cock.

Obediently, you took the tip into your mouth, running your tongue over it and cleaning it of the mixture of your juices. With your hands still strapped to the frame, you relied on only your mouth and tongue to do the work, which began to ache quickly.

“Yeah, you do,” Sam replied, huskily. “I told you it would be easy.”

Your eyes widened and Dean growled, stopping your head with his hand on your chin as you started to move away. “Don’t move,” he snapped. “What, did you think we were fucking stupid?”

“Not as stupid as the FBI, apparently,” Sam drawled and panic churned in your belly. You kept cleaning Dean’s dick with your tongue, whimpering when he started to get hard again in your mouth. “Y/N Y/L/N. Junior Detective. Graduated with glowing praise from all her professors. The perfect, good, little girl.” He chuckled as Dean dragged his cock from between your lips.

“Sam likes pet projects,” Dean murmured, “so instead of killing you outright, he decided to see if he could make you his. Show the FBI that it doesn’t matter what they do. We’re untouchable.”

You swallowed, tasting cum on your lips. “You - are you going to kill me?”

Sam laughed loudly this time, shaking his head as he moved between your thighs, pumping his shaft as he looked down at your used pussy. “No,” he said. “You’re too perfect not to keep. It’d be a waste of time.”

“Also, corpses are problems,” Dean pointed out, “and we don’t like problems.”

“Besides,” Sam added, guiding his cock into your cunt and you moaned, arching in the restraints. The wet sucking sound as your pussy took him in was obscene and Dean grunted, his cock at full attention now. “Why would we want to get rid of such a good little toy?”

You couldn’t say anything else as Dean pressed his cock back to your mouth - you obediently parted your lips, letting him fuck your mouth. It was too easy to give into the mindless bliss, to give into the pleasure of being theirs, of being completely submissive to them.

When they were finally done, you were practically unconscious. You didn’t move or speak when they undid the restraints; Sam lifted you like a rag doll, carrying you out of the room and back toward the stairs, Dean following behind. They spoke as they walked but their words were muffled and you were too far gone to acknowledge any of it.

Sam lay you down on the bed in the room you’d been given and a few moments later, a warm washcloth glided across your skin. Opening your eyes wasn’t happening and your body was screaming for rest.

You gave in. It was just easier that way.

*****

“Wakey, wakey.”

Groaning, you opened your eyes, the remnants of your dream filtering away into your subconscious. Sam was leaning on the bed, smiling at you and instinctively, you smiled back before remembering what had happened.

You sat upright, wincing as the cut on your belly caught the sheets. “Whoa, easy there, tiger,” Dean chided, making you jump. “Things coming back to ya now?”

Swallowing, you nodded, flicking your eyes between them nervously. “You knew… the whole time?”

Sam smirked, sitting on the bed beside your legs. “You know how many times the FBI or the NYPD have tried to pin something down on us, pretty girl?” Another nod - you’d read all about their failures. “We never expected them to send a lamb to the slaughter.”

“I - I can’t go home, can I?”

“Do you want to?” Dean’s question was serious and you stared at him, bottom lip shuddering. He stood straight from the dresser he’d been leaning against. “Tell me honestly, Y/N - you really wanna go home after this?”

“I -”

“Could you go back? Forget all this?” Sam pressed, his hand laying across your thigh, the thin sheet the only thing between you. “Lock all that dark back up and be that good girl again?” His expression was menacing and you shivered, eyes wide as Sam leaned over, kissing you with a smile. “I’ve got some things to take care of,” he said.

You nodded, looking down as he stepped back and Dean took his place. “Don’t be too long,” Dean muttered at his brother. “I might get bored and start without you.”

Sam barked a laugh as he walked out of the door and Dean returned his attention to you.

“You need to eat,” he commented. “And, I’ve run you a bath.”

“Huh?” you blinked, confused and Dean chuckled.

“We’re not gonna let you starve,” he pointed out, “haven’t we made it clear yet? You’re ours, princess.” He took your hand, pulling you to your feet - you winced and bit your bottom lip as yesterday’s events ached across your skin. “We’re gonna take care of you.”

His fingers caressed your cheek and you sighed against him when he kissed you, putty in his hands. Whatever doubt you had fizzled away when he touched you, like he was the drug you needed. Dean pulled you toward the bedroom door, catching you when you stumbled and your belly growled with hunger.

“Food first?” you asked hopefully; Dean laughed under his breath.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”


	18. Chapter 18

Following the rules had always come naturally to you. Top of your class in every subject, you’d strived to be the best, confident in your ability to figure out puzzles and piece things together. You made junior detective within two years of leaving the academy and two weeks ago, you’d been on track for a promotion and a promising career.

Now, it was a different story.

Now, you were theirs. No amount of training could have prepared you for meeting the Winchesters.

It had been three days since you’d begged them to fuck you. You couldn’t get enough of their touch, no matter what they were doing, and submission seemed natural. There were no more nights on the frame although you’d been back to that room several times since, and every time you’d begged.

They still wouldn’t let you cum.

The first night you shared a bed with both brothers, they’d fucked you together. You shuddered when you thought of it, the feeling of them inside you at the same time. You’d never had much experience with anal but like with every dirty little thing they’d done to you, you’d come to crave it.

Somehow, you’d become more comfortable in your own body, with their literal ban on clothes. The house was always a good temperature and even when Gadreel was lurking, you didn’t care. Sam liked to touch you, both of them did, and there was no limit to when or where they’d take you.

Saturday morning found you waking slowly, curled into Dean’s side. Sam was nowhere to be seen and you lifted your head, one hand splayed across Dean’s bare chest. He stirred, yawning as he opened his eyes. 

“G’morning,” he murmured, instantly rolling you over to pin you underneath his larger frame. Your body ached in protest and you whimpered when his mouth closed over one of your nipples, yanking at the tender flesh with his teeth.

It took a second for him to notice the empty side of the bed.

“Where’s Sam?” he asked, frowning as he looked around.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, still not quite able to keep your eyes open. “I only just woke up.”

Dean hummed, pulling off of you and grabbing his pants. You rolled onto your side, appreciating his bare ass until the denim covered it. “C’mon,” he yawned, “I’m hungry.”

Climbing out of bed, you rushed to catch up, taking his hand and pressing close to him. Dean smiled affectionately, his expression conjuring warmth in your chest. Out of the two brothers, Dean was the softer of the two. He was just as strict with his brother, just as eager to mark you, but he was the one who ran you baths, who cleaned your cuts.

Your mind knew it was a trick, to make you feel compassionate toward him.

You’d stopped caring.

As Dean led you down the hall, voices became apparent downstairs. Dean stiffened, his hand tightening around yours. At the bottom of the staircase, he stopped, glancing at you. “Stay,” he ordered, releasing your hand.

You straightened, holding your hands behind your back, your feet shoulder width apart. Dean smiled, touching your cheek and leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Good girl,” he praised.

When he turned, you relaxed a little, waiting patiently. A few seconds later, Dean called your name and you padded across the marble floor toward the kitchen.

Sam came into view first, wearing his sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You quickly figured out that he’d been running, something he liked to do every morning, which explained his absence from the bed. Dean was stood next to him; they wore matching expressions of irritation.

Turning the corner, you saw the reason for their disdain, and it ground you to a halt, suddenly very conscious that you were nude, covered in cuts and bruises. John Winchester lounged against the kitchen counter, smirking as he dragged his eyes over you. “Well, well, well, you have been busy.”

“Y/N,” Dean muttered, “you’ve met John.”

You lifted your chin and nodded. John pushed off of the counter, tilting his head as he closed the distance between you. Sam’s hand clenched around his bottle of water and you noticed Dean shoot him a look.

“You are a beauty,” John murmured.

Remaining still, you sucked in a breath when he traced one finger over the knife scratches on your belly. His dark eyes drew you in and you felt your stomach clench.

The Winchesters definitely grew them pretty to look at.

“How about we go through to the dining room?” Dean suggested, nudging Sam with his elbow. John turned, dropping his hand and grinning, keeping his eyes on you as Dean led you through first, tapping your shoulder twice, silently instructing you.

Obediently, you went to the head of the table and waited for Sam. He sat at the top, Dean to his right; John opted to sit on the left, still openly gazing at you. When Sam sat down, you dropped to your knees with your hands behind your back, bowing your head like you’d been taught.

“Update me,” John ordered and Sam sneered.

“The deals going through, just like we planned,” Dean said, giving his brother a side-eye look. “And she’s not a problem anymore.”

“So I see,” John drawled, sitting up a little more. “She was sent to get information on you. How do we know this isn’t an act?”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “She’s loyal. She knows who she belongs to now.” The dig at John’s own marriage was clear; neither of them had ever been faithful to the other.

John hummed, leaning on the arm of the chair. “Maybe you need a third party opinion,” he suggested, smiling lecherously. “Besides, I taught you boys everything you know. Only seems fair you let me check your work.”

“You want a demonstration?” Sam barked, clicking his fingers at you. Instantly, you were alert, and when Sam spread his thighs, giving you a little smile, you knew what he wanted. The humiliation made your cheeks burn but you moved to obey, slotting yourself neatly between his legs, your fingers on his belt buckle.

Dean continued the conversation, even as you started to pull Sam’s cock free from his pants. You kept your eyes open, working him into your mouth exactly the way he liked. “Do you still need me for the Moscow trip?” Dean asked and John nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll have Kelly email you the itinerary,” John muttered, his eyes still on you as you took Sam as deep as you could. “Are you planning on using her at the club?”

“No,” Sam snapped, giving his father a sharp look as he placed one hand on your head, winding your ponytail through his fingers. “She’s ours.”

“It’s gonna need to be legal, boys,” John sighed, shaking his head. “That means marriage papers. Only way we keep her out of the FBI’s hands is if she’s got Winchester as a last name.” You tried not to let your surprise at his words show, continuing to take Sam deeper.

“Not it,” Dean replied quickly, raising his hand, “I don’t wanna be picked out by paparazzi when they find me sticking my dick elsewhere.”

The thought of him with other women made your stomach churn and you squirmed on your knees, trying not to mess up your rhythm. Sam groaned, tipping his head back. “Fuck, that’s it, pretty girl.” John raised an eyebrow, looking at him. “I’ll do it. As long as I get to breed her first.”

Your insides felt like they were on fire. It wasn’t the first mention of breeding - they’d already told you that the depo injections wouldn’t be happening again. They fully intended on knocking you up and you didn’t know whether to be terrified or aroused.

Both had equal ground.

Tightening your hold on the base of Sam’s shaft, you bobbed up and down eagerly, resisting the urge to touch yourself. Sam released a guttural moan, almost panting when he looked down at you. “Dirty slut likes the breeding talk. Bet you’re fucking soaked right now, huh?” He dragged you up off of his cock, allowed you to answer.

“Yes, sir.”

John grunted in amusement, adjusting himself in his pants as he watched Sam shove you back down.

“Two weeks,” he muttered. “Jesus, you boys found the perfect little fuckdoll, didn’t you?” He palmed the front of his pants, his eyes riveted on what you were doing.

“She does everything she’s told,” Dean sounded proud, “and she knows we’ll look after her.”

“Everything, huh?”

Sam grunted when he came, filling your throat. You swallowed every drop, holding him in your mouth until he was done before licking him clean. “Everything,” he gasped, tucking his cock away. “On your feet.”

You got up, licking away the last drop of cum on your chin, waiting for instructions.

“Go upstairs and clean up,” Sam ordered, “and wait in your room. On the bed.” His hand caught yours before you could turn away. “Make me proud, pretty girl.” You let your eyes move to John, who smiled when Sam sat back. “You have an hour with her. No marks visible with clothing. Just in case we let her wear any.”


	19. Chapter 19

It took you only a few moments to clean up, positioning yourself on the bed and waiting patiently. John’s footsteps were loud along the hall and you swallowed, remembering Sam’s words as the door handle turned.

_ Make me proud, pretty girl. _

You couldn’t deny that John Winchester was the definition of silver fox. Even at sixty, he was boyishly handsome, still strong and fit - you didn’t have illusions that he would be gentle with you.

Stepping inside the room, John closed the door, looking over at you as he flicked the lock. “When Sam told me who you were, I thought he was gonna fuck us all,” he admitted, shrugging off his leather jacket and hanging it on the chair by the dresser. “I should really have more faith in his instincts.”

You didn’t answer, sitting stiffly on the bed. John turned his back to you, unbuttoning his flannel shirt and tossing it with his coat, leaving his t-shirt on.

“You gonna do everything I ask, sweetheart?” he asked, closing the space between you and looking down, using one finger to tilt your chin up. You swallowed and nodded, making him smile again. “You really are the perfect little good girl, ain'tcha?”

His fingers trailed down over your jaw, not stopping until he was circling one finger around your nipple. It hardened at the stimulation; you tried not to make a sound. John inhaled deeply, humming as he breathed out.

“Lay down for me, baby girl.”

_ This is a married man _ , your mind screamed - you ignored it, focusing on Sam’s voice.

_ Make me proud, pretty girl _ .

Scrambling backward on the bed, you laid down straight, keeping your hands at your side, head cushioned on the pillows. John walked around the bed, unbuckling his belt as he went. “You need to relax, kitten,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off of you, “why don’t you show Daddy your pretty cunt?”

Your thighs shook as you obeyed and John grinned, standing at the bottom of the bed.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

Draping your arm between your legs, you brought your fingers to your aching clit, stroking it slowly. John unbuttoned his pants and pulled his cock out, stroking it as he watched you. Your gaze dropped and you unconsciously licked your lips, making him chuckle.

“Like what you see, baby girl?” He stroked himself languidly, precum oozing from the tip. “I’m not packing like Sammy but I got some tricks he don’t have.” Jerking his chin upward, his smile grew. “Use both hands - I wanna see you cum.”

Obeying, you reached down with your other hand, hooking it under your leg for better leverage. You’d performed this act for Sam and Dean several times, although they never usually let you cum. Easing two fingers against your entrance, you couldn’t help the wispy moan that left your lips as you started to fuck yourself slowly.

“You are a treasure,” John hissed, his strokes becoming firmer. “Look how wet your little pussy is. You’re just a slut for Winchester cock, huh?”

You nodded absently, concentrating on the building pleasure in your core. Sam hadn’t let you cum last night and that arousal had been slowly gathering pace since he’d made you suck his cock in the dining room.

“You gonna cum, princess?” he taunted; you nodded again. “Stop.”

A wail left your lips as your body obeyed the command, leaving your pussy twitching in anticipation of the release it was being denied.

“My boys have marked you up good, haven’t they?” You whimpered, your entire body shaking as John walked around the side of the bed, kicking his pants off and peeling his shirt from his torso. “You like the dirty things they do to you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

John groaned, leaning one knee on the bed. “Fuck,” he grunted, “get on your belly, baby girl. Stick that beautiful ass of yours in the air.” 

Rolling onto your front, you pushed yourself up like he asked, holding your breath when the bed dipped behind you. His hand landed on your ass, squeezing it hard. There were still bruises from the spanking Sam had given you yesterday morning and you whined at the sudden rush of moisture between your legs.

“Pain gets you hot,” John commented, laughter in his tone. “Damn, my boys did good with you.”

He thrust a single finger into your cunt; you squeaked in surprise, clenching reflexively around the intrusion. John pulled back, easing two into you this time, smiling at the wet sucking sound his fingers made.

“God, you’re still so tight.” Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he trailed them up to your ass, pressing gently at your still-sore rim. “Hmm, my boys fucked you here, baby?” You nodded into the pillows and John chuckled. “You had Sam there?” Another nod. “You like it?”

“Yes,” you whined, your ass clenching.

“Oh, that’s a tempting thought,” John muttered, circling your asshole with his thumb. “Been a while since I’ve had a perfect little rosebud around my dick.”

You weren’t sure if your ass could take any more punishment. Sam had fucked you pretty hard the day before and you were still aching.

“But it’s also been a while since I’ve had a pussy like this,” his fingers dropped back down, teasing your entrance, “and I don’t think I’ve got it in me for two rounds.” He said it like it was a joke and you shuddered when he started to fuck his fingers into you again. “And you are so tight,” he repeated.

Unconsciously, you pressed back, desperate to cum after the constant teasing.

“You want my cock, baby girl? Want Daddy to fuck you?”

Your answering ‘yes’ came out in a gasp and John removed his fingers again, rubbing the tip of his cock against you. He slid up over the crack of your ass, reigniting the fear that he’d decide to take you there. It was momentary; he groaned and pressed his cock back against your pussy, sliding into your soaked channel. You gasped and clutched the pillows as he kept going, not stopping until he was balls deep inside you. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he moaned, his hands holding onto your ass. “Beautiful tight little cunt.”

The bed squeaked when he started to rock into you, taking his time with long strokes that teased you with pleasure. John lifted one leg, planting his foot on the bed and leaning more of his weight onto you as he picked up the pace.

“Wanna feel you cum for me, baby girl,” he grunted, tightening his hold on your ass. You could barely breathe with his weight on top of you, the intense angle hitting exactly the right spot inside you. “Cum on my cock, slut.”

You couldn’t scream and the lack of oxygen was making you woozy. It contributed to the spiraling bliss that spread outward and when you came, it was silent shuddering jolts that made John snarl. Your body clenched tightly around him and he pulled out, leaving you to collapse on the bed, panting heavily.

He hadn’t cum.

Had you displeased him?

“Oh, don’t worry, baby girl,” John drawled, bringing his hand down on your ass hard enough to make you yelp. “I’m nowhere near finished with my hour.”

*****

“Hour’s up,” Sam growled, getting to his feet and Dean sighed.

“Sam -”

John appeared in the doorway, buttoning his shirt up and grinning widely. “Hell of a girl you found there, boys. Definitely marriage material. You sure she’s only been at this for two weeks?”

Dean smirked and Sam puffed his chest out proudly. “She’s a natural submissive. You let her cum?”

“Hell,” John’s lips curled upward, “I let her gush, son. Still got it after all these years.” He hooked his fingers into his belt, rocking on his heels. “She’ll probably need a rest. When are you boys heading back to the city?”

“Tuesday,” Sam responded. “Got a meeting with the board. You gonna stick your head in?”

Chuckling under his breath, John nodded. “Company’s still mine until you get that sweet thing bred, Sammy, you know that.” The frustration on Sam’s face was evident and Dean tensed, hoping it wasn’t going to come to an argument. “Speaking of, you need to get her legitimized. Get down to the courthouse and put in your notice.”

John turned away and Sam cleared his throat. “What about the ceremony? Mom -”

“Leave the ceremony with me,” John interrupted, grabbing his coat. “Take a few more days out here, the business’ll run fine without you. You need to make sure she’s broken.” He fixed Sam with a hard look. “She’s your responsibility. Get her career ended and the FBI out of our fucking way.”

“It’s dealt with,” Sam growled back as Dean covered a smile. “Just make sure it’s a small wedding. The smaller, the better.”

John chuckled, giving his son a mock salute. “See ya later, boys.”

The front door slammed behind him and Dean looked at his brother, raising an eyebrow. “You always gotta provoke him, man.”

“Go check on Y/N,” Sam snapped and Dean held his hands up.

“Alright, dude, seriously, you PMS’ing or somethin’?” The glare on Sam’s face probably would have killed a lesser man but Dean just laughed and shook his head. “Get some breakfast sorted, will ya?”

*****

Dean had left you your phone while he and Sam ran some errands. Ben had stopped calling after he’d heard what was going on and you still carried guilt that you’d hurt him so badly. Maybe it was easier this way, that he knew like that. Quick and clean like a bandaid.

Meg had called and left messages asking you to call her back.

You had one job to do.

Dialing the number, you waited for the switchboard to answer. “Hi, could you put me through to Captain Turner, please?” The pleasant sounding lady on the other end confirmed the name and then transferred you through, forcing you to listen to awful music on hold.

Dean’s voice echoed in your head.

_ You tell them you quit. No evidence, nothing. You’re using up vacation time to work your notice. _

You’d been practicing your words in your head but when your commanding officer answer, you stuttered. “ _ Hello? Hello? _ ”

“Captain,” you managed, gasping for breath, which was ridiculous. “It’s Y/N.”

“ _ Y/N, Jesus H. Christ - _ ” There was some fumbling as the man adjusted the phone; you could see him in his office, waving someone over to trace your phone.

It didn’t matter if they did.

“I’m giving my notice,” you said firmly, closing your eyes and reciting your lines.

“ _ Okay, listen to me, Y/N. We’ve issued a warrant for your arrest. We can bring you home safely, just tell us where you are. _ ”

“I’m giving my notice,” you repeated, weakly this time. “I’ll be using my vacation time to cover it. I just… I can’t do the job, okay? That’s it.”

“ _ Y/N, you need to listen, _ ” Captain Turner urged and you hesitated, pulling the phone away to end the call. Before he could make any argument, you hung up, trying not to cry. Rufus Turner had been like a father to you since your own died but then… he’d assigned you this case. He’d sent you to them.

This was just how things were. You wanted to stay with them.


	20. Chapter 20

Sam’s phone rang three times before he answered, his grumpy greeting waking you and Dean at the same time. Whoever it was, Sam sat upright in alarm. “What?”

Dean was awake now, watching his brother as the younger man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah. As soon as I can.” Ending the call, Sam glanced over at Dean. “They raided the club. Judge granted a warrant because of those damn photos you had to go and send.”

You frowned, leaning back on your elbows as the two men stared each other down. An amused smirk spread across Dean’s face and he shrugged. “And? He had to get the message.”

“What… what photos?” Your question was quiet and apprehensive and Sam growled in frustration, getting out of bed and grabbing his pants. You glanced at Dean, wondering if he was going to answer you. “Dean?”

“I may have made sure your boyfriend got that you weren’t his,” he muttered. “Obviously he’s gone and made a drama outta it.” Sam scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at his brother, holding his pants halfway up.

“You could have let it be,” he spat, dragging his pants up his legs with one hand. “But you can’t resist yourself. The phone call was enough.”

You covered your face as you realized what they’d done. At some point, they’d taken photos of you and sent them to Ben. And you didn’t need to know what sort of photos Dean would have taken.

“We gotta go back to the city and clean up this mess,” Sam grunted, pulling his shirt on. “Find her some clothes and get dressed.” He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, stomping away with a second look. You knew you weren’t the one in trouble here but you were wary of Sam’s temper.

Dean chuckled. “He’s overreacting,” he murmured, yawning widely. “Club’s covered. They won’t press charges.” Slapping your thigh, Dean got up, grabbing for his pants. “C’mon, princess. We better not keep Mr. Grumpy waiting.”

*****

The club door lights were off and night had just fallen when Dean pulled the Impala up to the front door. Benny wasn’t on the door and when Sam tried to open it, he grunted in frustration, pulling his keys from his pocket to unlock it.

Elle was alone in her office, going through paperwork; she didn’t bother to look up when Dean walked in without knocking.

“Nice getaway?” she murmured, the irritation in her tone clear.

“We didn’t get a heads up on this one,” Dean said, by way of apology but Elle only sniffed.

“I gave the girls the night off, with pay.” She finally looked up, eyes blazing. “And you both owe me for the inconvenience of covering your asses,  _ again _ .” Her gaze fell on you, one eyebrow rising in curiosity. “Should she be in here?”

Dean threw an arm around your shoulder. “This pretty little thing?” He kissed your cheek and you remained still, looking back at Elle. It felt like she was assessing you and you suddenly wondered if she’d known from the beginning too.

“Y/N’s copacetic,” Sam snapped, “your problem is the club, Elle.”

A chill settled over the room when Elle got to her feet, her heels enhancing her height by several inches, although she was still dwarfed by Sam. “I’m gonna put your tone down to stress, Mr. Winchester.” The way she said it made Sam flinch and you couldn’t help your curiosity at his sudden silence. “You put me in charge of this club. You trusted me to run it the way you saw fit and I’ve done that. But do not presume to exclude me from important details that I  _ need _ to know to keep this place off the police radar.”

Sam stepped forward, lowering his head, almost submissive in his approach. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. Shifting, he glanced over his shoulder at you and his brother. “You wanna go find Cas? I’ll get caught up here.”

“Sure,” Dean replied, shrugging and pulling you toward the door. “I’ll get him to take Y/N home, yeah?”

You blinked, unsure of what ‘home’ they were referring to, although you moved without question when Dean led you out of the office and down the corridor. Castiel was sitting in the main bar area with Benny, the pair of them sharing a drink when Dean walked in.

“Evenin’ boss,” Benny greeted, raising his glass of what appeared to be whiskey. His eyes flickered to you for a brief second. “Elle chewin’ Sam out?”

Dean laughed, nodding. “She sure is. Cas?” The blue-eyed man’s eyebrows lifted and Dean jerked his thumb at you. “Can you take her back to the penthouse?” Their home, then. “We got some business to deal with here and we could be late.”

“I believe your mother is at the penthouse,” Castiel murmured, the warning in his voice clear.

“Then stay with her. Go see a movie or somethin’, I don’t give a fuck.” Dean wasn’t even looking at you and something small and dark inside your chest started to unfurl. Castiel got up from his seat, giving Dean a dubious look. “Look,” the other man grunted, “Mom won’t care if you go back to the house. But maybe Y/N would like to, I dunno, go shopping?”

Your bottom lip slipped out into a pout. “I want to stay with you,” you whispered, knowing you were only speaking up because it was Dean. Sam wouldn’t take any second-guessing from you but Dean was… softer.

“I know, baby,” Dean replied, touching your cheek. “But this shit is boring. You ain’t gonna wanna sit around in the bar all night with nothin’ to do.” Retracting his hand, he glanced at Castiel. “Call me if there’s any problems.”

*****

For the first few moments in the car, it was uncomfortable silence. Castiel maneuvered the sedan through traffic; you watched the world out of the tinted windows, wondering what they were doing back at the club.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked, drawing the car to a stop behind a queue of others. “The mall, perhaps?”

You sighed, shrugging. Castiel watched you in the mirror and you remembered when Sam had touched you right on the back seat where he could see. A shudder coursed down your spine.

“Have you ever been to Central Park?”

The question caught you off guard and you met his gaze, folding your hands in your lap. “No, sir.” He chuckled, shaking his head and you frowned, unsure what you’d done.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’, Y/N,” he informed you, sounding highly amused, “Cas will suffice.”

“Sorry, Cas,” you whispered, feeling a little more at ease. “No, I’ve never been to Central Park.” Lifting his chin, he nodded and smiled.

“It’s quiet,” he said, pressing forward when the traffic moved. “You look like you could use some quiet.” The corner of your lips tugged up in a smile and you nodded. Castiel smiled again. “Central Park it is.”

It took a while to navigate the packed streets of the city, even at the late hour, and finding somewhere to park the car was worse. When you finally arrived at the destination Castiel apparently had in mind, you were surprised. It didn’t seem like the sort of place a man like Castiel would find appeal in.

“I come here a lot,” he confessed, keeping close but not touching you as you walked down the path side-by-side. “To think.” You nodded, listening respectively but also afraid to talk. This man was a stranger; you’d only met him a handful of times and the Winchesters didn’t tend to have associates that weren’t… twisted.

Cas moved ahead, aiming for a specific bench and sitting down. You joined him, looking out over the dimly lit pond, watching the light play on the surface of the water. Neither of you spoke and you found yourself enjoying the quiet, almost forgetting the man was there until he spoke.

“I assume you haven’t eaten.”

“No,” you replied, looking over at him. “We grabbed something on the way back to the city but that was a few hours ago.”

“I know a very satisfactory sandwich shop that’s always open,” he informed you, “I’m not sure there’d be much to eat at the Winchester residence.”

“Mary doesn’t like me,” you said quietly, looking back at the pond.

Castiel hummed. “The Winchesters are not like other people. Not like the people you would be used to, I imagine.”

“They’re not… good men.”

“No,” he confessed, “but neither am I. Let he without sin cast the first stone.”

“You’re religious?”

He laughed at that, shaking his head. “I was raised in a very Catholic household. Some things… stuck.” Leaning his elbows on his knees, Cas propped his chin up with his hands. “Sam and Dean are complicated men. They had an unorthodox upbringing.”

“I’ve met their dad,” you admitted, a blush staining your cheeks as you remembered your encounter with John Winchester a few days before. “He’s...intense.”

“That is one way of describing him, yes.”

The conversation lapsed into silence and you caught sight of a dragonfly hovering over the pond, scales glinting in the lamplight. A sigh escaped you and before you could stop it, the question slipped out. “Why do you work for them?”

Castiel mused over the question for a few seconds, holding his pose and keeping his blue eyes on the pond. “About ten years ago, I was serving a lengthy jail term. Dean was serving a much shorter one, for a DUI, if memory serves.” His gaze grew distant. “Perdition County Secure Facility. Hell, in other words.”

You knew all this of course. Dean’s record in prison was a violent one, even though he’d only served a year. Money had bailed him out of that situation; there wasn’t anything the Winchesters couldn’t buy their way out of. Rumor had it that John left Dean in there to teach him a lesson but only ended up teaching his son brutality in the face of adversity.

“Dean saved my life, I saved his,” Cas continued, lowering his hands and folding them together. “When I was released, he was there with a job. A fresh start. Sort of.”

“So you feel like you owe him?”

He laughed at that. “No. That debt has been repaid many times over. On both sides.” Turning to you, his blue eyes felt like they were piercing your soul. The man was odd and unsettling but somehow, he didn’t seem threatening to you. “I stay because, despite the sort of people they are, the Winchesters take care of their own. And that includes you.”

“I feel like this is a pep talk,” you murmured.

“Do you want to go home, Y/N?” he asked, cutting you off before you could answer. “Back to Philadelphia?” You hesitated - what was left for you there? Your career was gone, you’d probably be arrested and the lie you’d convinced everyone of had destroyed your relationships.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “My head, I can’t -”

Castiel shushed you. “It’s okay. You’ll adjust.” He smiled, patting your hand. “For the record, Sam and Dean do care for you, in their own way. You’ve already shown that you can… satisfy their needs.” You blushed furiously, looking away and Cas’ smile turned to amusement instead of comfort. “Don’t worry about what happened in the car. I don’t really have any interest in women.” He paused, chewing the inside of his mouth. “Or men.”

“Oh.” Uncertainty rendered you silent; you weren’t sure what to say to that.

“How about that sandwich?”

You smiled genuinely. “I’d like that.”


	21. Chapter 21

The Penthouse wasn’t empty when you arrived, although Sam and Dean were nowhere to be found. Mary Winchester sat in the lounge, getting hot and heavy with the same guy you’d seen her with at the ball. John was out of the country on business - obviously, she didn’t seem to care if he found out.

“What are you doing here?” she asked curtly, pushing the man off. You stared at him, trying to figure out where you knew him from. He stared back, his unsettling gaze making your stomach churn. Mary got to her feet, scowling. “Castiel?”

“Dean and Sam are dealing with some business,” he said gruffly, taking hold of your elbow. “They instructed me to bring her here.”

The older woman didn’t appear to like the sound of that and the man got to his feet, smiling as he placed his hand on her lower back. “Now, now,” he muttered, his British accent clear. Your eyes went wide as you recognized him. “I’m sure the young lady can retire to her bedroom.”

Castiel nodded. “A good suggestion,” he agreed, “come with me, Y/N.”

You went easily, mind scrambling for the man’s name. He was someone you’d met briefly before you’d been on the case, an agent who’d been heavily involved with the Winchesters. Arthur something. What the hell was his last name?”

“Ketch won’t be welcomed when the brothers return,” Castiel murmured when you were out of earshot. The surname fell into place and you wondered if you should tell Cas who he really was. “They don’t trust him. But he keeps their mother happy.”

“John doesn’t care?”

Castiel shook his head in confirmation just as he came to a stop by the door at the furthest end of the hall. The way Dean had sent Tania that night you’d -

“This is your room,” Castiel informed you. “There’s a television and other things to keep you amused. It’s probably best if you stay in here until Sam and Dean return.”

“Are you leaving?” you asked, suddenly feeling like you were losing an ally.

“There is no need to worry. Mary doesn’t stay up that late. She’s… well, she drinks. A lot.”

“What about Ketch?”

Castiel’s eyebrow jerked upward. “I will be remaining close. Do you have your phone?” You shook your head - it was in the bag in the back of the Impala. “Okay. If anything happens, scream really really loud.” An unbidden smile rose to your lips, your amusement at his answer clear.

“Got it.”

*****

By 1am, the brothers hadn’t returned and you couldn’t sleep. Castiel hadn’t come back and you weren’t sure if he was still in the penthouse. With each passing moment, your need for a drink intensified until you realized you would have to venture to the kitchen.

The lights in the corridor were still on - you followed them, finding the lounge again easily. It was empty, so you padded through to the kitchen, fixing yourself a cup of water. Footsteps made you turn and your stomach dropped when you saw Ketch standing by the counter of the open plan kitchen.

“I was wondering if you’d keep yourself locked in there all night,” he drawled, regarding you with a sly smile on his face.

“I - I needed a drink,” you stuttered, frantically trying to remember your training. You knew this guy was dangerous and if he knew you’d recognized him -

“The Winchesters aren’t back,” Ketch informed you, raising an eyebrow, “and Mary, bless her, she can’t get the hang of that alcohol addiction. Of course, the pain meds would knock her out on their own but you have to make sure of these things.” His eyes turned cold. “Don’t you, Detective Y/L/N?”

You shook your head, placing your glass on the counter top. “I’m not a detective anymore,” you whispered, “I quit.”

“Because you belong to the Winchesters now,” he chuckled, walking a little closer. His movements were casual to the untrained eye but you knew this was threatening behavior. “You’re not a very good actress, Y/N. You recognized me the moment you walked in.”

_ Not quite _ , your mind provided as your mouth scrambled for an answer. “I don’t -”

Ketch was in front of you like a flash and you squeaked, the sound muffled when he covered your mouth with his hand. “If you’re a clever girl, you’ll be quiet and do as I say. You’re all alone, right now, Y/N. And I’d quite like to see what all the fuss is about.”

His fingers trailed down your bare arm, creating goose pimples in their wake. You shuddered in disgust but Ketch took it for arousal, smiling softly.

“There, there,” he murmured, “you’re going to enjoy it, I promise.”

He shifted his hand and you screamed as loudly as you could, prompting Ketch to backhand you across the face. The blow stunned you and he let you drop, growling in frustration as you crawled across the floor trying to get away.

You could taste blood on your lips.

“You think you’re better than me?” he snarled, grabbing your ankle and dragging you backwards, quickly straddling your waist. His big hands grabbed your wrists, pinning them by your head. “No one can hear you, slut.”

Ketch leaned down and you took the opening, raising your head as quickly as you could. Your forehead connected with his nose, a sickening crunch accompanying a spray of blood and Ketch hollered in pain. He released you instantly and you got to your feet, running for the door.

You didn’t get far. Colliding with Sam’s chest, you emitted a quiet ‘oof’ and went down on your butt.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam ground out, his fists clenching at his sides as he looked between you and the bloodied Englishman.

“She - she attacked me!” Ketch managed, cupping his face as blood poured between his fingers. “She’s crazy.”

“Sam,” you whispered, scrambling upright again, “he’s FBI. Agent Arthur Ketch.”

Sam’s entire expression turned into something terrifying, just as Dean appeared behind him. “What’s goin’ on?” the elder Winchester asked, seeing the state of you, a bruise blooming on your cheekbone and blood trickling from your forehead where you’d headbutted your assailant. Ketch pointed at you.

“You can’t trust her, she’s an undercover detective,” he claimed, blood dripping down his top lip. You’d definitely connected with that blow, although your head was pounding as a result.

“Dean,” Sam murmured, not taking his eyes off of Ketch, “take Y/N to her room and clean her up. I’ll fix this mess.” He was calm as he spoke and you stared at him, easily able to distinguish the rage in his eyes. It was another reminder of how dangerous he was.

“C’mon, princess,” Dean coaxed, reaching for your hand and tugging you past his brother. You went willingly and quietly, listening for the sound of what was happening in the kitchen.

The possibility that Sam would kill Ketch was very real.

Dean closed the bedroom door behind you both, turning and taking your face between his palms. “You okay?” You nodded, tears in the corners of your eyes. “You did good, baby girl,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss you.

It was softer than any other kiss you’d shared. Dean didn’t push for more, just holding you there until the need for oxygen drew him away. Your cheek felt swollen from the slap Ketch had given you and Dean frowned as he pressed his fingertips against the darkening skin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

*****

“How are you feeling?”

Dean’s voice made you open your eyes where you’d been resting them. Once he’d cleaned the wound on your forehead and given you some ice for your cheek, he’d left you in the bedroom, presumably to go and check on his brother and Ketch.

He’d been gone about an hour and the ice had melted, so you’d settled down under the sheets, tossing the soaked paper towels into the trash bin.

“Head hurts a little,” you whispered, smiling as he started to strip down. “Where’s Sam?”

“Dealing with Ketch,” Dean replied, his tone clipped. “Did you take the aspirin I left out for you?” You nodded, not taking your eyes off of him when he slipped into bed with you. His hands slid around your waist, dragging you against his body. “Damn, you’re warm.”

You giggled, cuddling into him. While you wanted to ask questions - what was Sam doing with Ketch being the biggest one - you had the distinct feeling Dean wouldn’t be forthcoming. But you didn’t think they would be stupid enough to kill an FBI agent. Even the Winchesters weren’t that feared.

“He didn’t touch you?” Dean muttered, pressing his nose into your cheek and you shook your head.

“No. I didn’t let him.”

Dean smiled, sliding his hand around your hip. “You’ve let others have you,” he continued, kissing along your jaw. You tipped your head back. “You let my father fuck you.”

“That was different,” you whimpered, running your fingers through his short hair. “Sam ordered me and - and I wanted to.” Dean huffed a laugh at that, sliding further down until he was level with your breasts, darting his tongue out to tease each nipple in turn. 

“How long did you know he was FBI?” he asked.

You gasped when he sucked one hard nub into his mouth. “A-about four hours,” you replied. “I recognized him up close, I had only seen him in passing - at the charity dinner.” Dean hummed, turning his attention to your other nipple.

“Why didn’t you tell Cas?”

“I panicked,” you admitted, closing your eyes as Dean broke away from your breasts, returning his head to the pillows beside you. “I told Sam right away, I… I was hoping Ketch didn’t know I knew so I could tell you, I wasn’t lying, I didn’t -”

“Ssh,” Dean murmured, placing one hand against your unbruised cheek, forcing you to open your eyes again. “I’m proud of you. You proved your loyalty tonight.” Silence was all you had and Dean smiled, kissing you softly again. His cock was hard against your thigh and you mewled wantonly as he shifted, rutting into you.

Rolling you underneath his body, he slotted himself between your thighs, kissing you deeply as he let his length rest against your pussy. You moaned into his mouth, wiggling impatiently, making him laugh.

“You want my cock, baby?” You nodded and Dean lowered his lips to your throat, sucking lightly at your pulse point. “You’ve been such a good girl…” His hand slipped between your bodies, lining his thick shaft up with your entrance, sliding into you with one swift stroke. The move punched a gasp from your lips and Dean held steady, buried deep inside you.

Clutching at his shoulders, you met him in a bruising kiss, licking into his mouth, making little noises that you knew pleased him. Dean started to move, rolling his hips with a hard slap of his thighs against yours. Over and over he filled you, sliding his arms under your back as he swallowed down your cries.

You came from the force of his pelvic bone crushing into your clit and just as cognitive thought became hazy with white noise, you wondered if there was anything Dean  _ couldn’t _ do to make your body sing.

He slowed his pace as you panted through the aftermath of your climax, eyes closed and head tipped back as you desperately sought air. “You okay?” he whispered, his lips ghosting against your throat and you nodded, forcing your eyes open again. “Damn,” Dean smiled, “you got so tight then, baby. You wanna feel me cum?”

You nodded again and Dean leaned in to kiss you, resuming his slow thrusts. Sliding your hands from his shoulders to his ass, you encouraged him to fuck you harder and he obliged, rattling the bed frame as he chased his own end.

With a strangled grunt, Dean crushed his mouth against yours, his cock pulsing inside you with his climax, cum oozing out around him. 

“We’re always gonna take care of you,” Dean murmured, barely parting from your lips, “I promise you that, princess. You’re ours.”

Sleep beckoned and when Dean withdrew, pulling you into the little spoon position, you didn’t fight. Any energy you had left was focused on trying to catch your breath.

Within minutes, you were out cold.


	22. Chapter 22

Darkness still blanketed the room when you woke, shivering. At some point, you’d thrown the covers off and Dean was gone, leaving you alone in bed. Sitting up, you yawned, hearing voices down the hall.

Putting clothes on slipped your mind entirely when you got to your feet, walking over to the door. All the time you’d spent naked at the Westchester estate had left you entirely comfortable with your nudity. Your feet made no sound on the carpeted bedroom floor or the marble flooring when you stepped out into the hall.

Dean and Sam were stood at the end, neither of them looking especially happy.

There was blood on Sam’s shirt.

“Dad’s on his way back,” Dean grunted.

“I take it Mom is gone?” Sam asked and Dean nodded before he caught sight of you.

“Hey, she’s awake,” he grinned, holding out an arm to you and you slipped into his embrace, leaning your head on his shoulder. “See, Sam? She’s obeying the rules without even being told to.”

Sam hummed, looking down at the state of his clothing. “I should wash up before Dad gets here. Wanna help me, pretty girl?” He offered you his hand and you smiled, letting him pull you away from his brother and toward the bathroom.

The penthouse had a luxurious bathroom, not unlike the one at the estate. Dean and Sam didn’t seem to have lavish tastes but they certainly liked to live in comfort. And they were both big guys, so it made sense they had massive showers.

Urging you into the stall first, Sam turned the spray on, turning away to strip his clothing off. You soaked yourself, tipping your head back to wet your hair, closing your eyes. Sam’s presence was easy to detect in the relatively small space and when you opened your eyes again, he was in front of you, hauling you against his naked body.

“You made me proud tonight, pretty girl,” he whispered, capturing your chin between his fingers, bestowing a soft kiss to your lips like Dean had done. “Kneel.”

You dropped to your knees willingly, looking up at him and waiting for instruction.

“Attend.”

Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you obeyed, licking at the tip of his shaft. Sam braced one hand against the wall, groaning as you fed his length into your mouth, breathing through your nose to take him deep.

His cock slid down your throat, choking you for a brief second and your eyes watered. The sound Sam made was primal and you braced your hands against his thighs when he started to thrust.

“Good girl,” he praised as you moaned around him, tears streaming down your cheeks with each stroke. “Such a perfect little mouth. Keep going, baby.”

Your pussy ached with need, enough to distract you from the burn in your legs at such an uncomfortable position. Sam kept thrusting, holding your head in his hands as he chased his finish, spilling guttural noises against the tiles.

He pulled back abruptly when you tasted his cum on your tongue, one of his hands fisted in your hair tightly. Grasping his cock, Sam tipped your head back.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered and you obeyed, hesitantly sticking your tongue out a little way. With a hoarse shout, he came, spraying cum over your cheeks and lips, groaning when it dripped down your chin.

You caught some with your tongue, keeping your eyes on his as you swallowed his taste and Sam released your hair, smiling. He didn’t need to say anything when he offered you his softening cock; you leaned forward, licking him clean before letting him pull you under the spray to clean away his spendings from your skin.

When you were done, Sam hauled you against his body, kissing you breathless. “You did good today, pretty girl,” he murmured, dragging his thumbs over your cheeks. “Really good.”

*****

“What the fuck do you mean, you  _ dealt _ with it?” John was almost foaming at the mouth in his rage as he stood opposite his two sons. “Lemme guess, lost your temper and killed him.”

Sam snorted. “Do I look stupid to you?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t exactly be the first time, Sam. Or need I remind you of all the messes I’ve cleaned up on your behalf?” There was a sneer on Sam’s face at his words. “Where is he? And where’s your mother?”

Dean lifted his chin in defiance. “I put her in a cab and told her to get lost. She was stupid enough to get mixed up with an FBI agent but I’m not letting you do what you want with her.” John didn’t look very pleased with his son’s answer but before he could chew his head off, Sam cut in.

“Ketch isn’t dead,” he spat. “I gave him to Crowley. He’ll wake up covered in prostitutes with enough heroin in his system to lose all credibility.” John seemed a little more satisfied with that answer but Sam wasn’t done, riled up by his father’s comments. “Maybe Mom wouldn’t have been such a loose cannon if you’d manned up.”

“What the fuck did you say to me?” John seethed.

“You heard me,” Sam growled, squaring his shoulders. “She went looking for cock somewhere else.”

“You really gonna talk shit at me, boy?”

Dean stepped between them, holding his hands up. “Stop it,” he snarled, baring his teeth at both of them. “A pissing contest isn’t gonna help anyone!” Silence fell between the three men and Dean relaxed a little, locking his eyes on his father’s. “What’s our next move?”

“We step it up,” John said, still glaring at Sam. The younger Winchester seethed quietly. “Y/N and Sam need to be legal and you need to get her knocked up. That’s your priority.”

“What about the warrant out for her arrest?” Dean asked.

John shook his head. “I took care of it. Another mess cleaned up by Daddy, huh boys?” The mocking tone made Sam bristle anew and Dean rolled his eyes, focusing on his brother.

“Go check on Y/N,” Dean ordered; there was a second of hesitation on Sam’s part, then he turned and stalked off, his footsteps heavier than necessary. Dean waited until he heard the bedroom door open. “He baits you,” he accused, glaring at John.

With a sniff, John waved him off. “Kid’s got balls. That’s why he’s the face of the business, Dean. But I gotta trust you to keep him under control. These things ain’t easy to make go away anymore. Not like they were.”

Dean hummed, glancing toward the door as it opened and Castiel walked in. “Dean,” he greeted.

“I need you in Baltimore for the weekend,” John informed his eldest, stepping around him to head for the door. “Jet’s waiting.”

“I thought you wanted me on the Moscow trip?”

“Postponed,” John barked back. “Baltimore takes precedent.”

“What about Sam?” Dean mumbled, already mentally packing a bag.

John grinned. “He’s got other priorities.”

*****

Dean was gone when you woke up two days later, finding yourself alone in bed again. Before you could panic, the door opened and Sam slipped in, a brown paper bag in his hand. “Mornin’, pretty girl,” he drawled, smiling as he moved across the room. “Got ya breakfast.”

You smiled, accepting the warm bag, grinning when you saw your favorite bagel inside. “Where’s Dean?”

“Baltimore,” Sam replied, a sigh at the end. “Won’t be back for a week. So we are going out on the town.”

“Out?” you echoed, voice a whisper.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve got some errands to run. Just thought you might wanna get out a little.” Sam grinned, his entire expression and posture disarming. This was a different side to him than you’d seen before and if anything, it made your wariness increase. “Unless you wanna -”

“No!” you gasped, shaking your head and Sam stopped, waiting for you to speak again. “I’m sorry,” you rushed out, “I just woke up and I’m still processing and -”

His hands took hold of yours, the bagel in the bag discarded for the moment. “Hey, hey,” he soothed, “it’s okay. You take your time, I could use a coffee anyway.” You blinked, still not sure if there would be punishment for not obeying the rules. Sam released your hands, getting to his feet. “You want one?”

“Erm, yes, please, sir,” you murmured stiffly, avoiding his eyes. A second later, his fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Have I done something wrong?” The question was barely a whisper.

“No,” Sam replied, leaning down to kiss you softly. “You’re doing everything right.” He pulled back with a smile, gesturing to your breakfast. “I’ll be right back with that coffee.”

When he’d gone, you glanced at the bagel, picking a slice of bacon out from between the bun halves. It tasted delicious and as you munched, you checked the time. Dean must have had an early flight - the clock blinked 09:00AM at you.

He was probably being an absolute joy - mornings were not something Dean Winchester was a fan of. In the weeks you’d been with them, he was always the one still in bed at nearly midday, whereas Sam was up and busying himself from dawn.

The bagel disappeared before Sam returned and you accepted your coffee with a smile, blinking in surprise when he walked around and slid back into the bed with you, dropping his mug carefully onto the bedside table. “Sorry,” he murmured, “feet are kinda cold.”

Although he’d done unspeakable things to you, you found yourself warming to this softer side. Placing your coffee on the nightstand, you let Sam pull you into his arms, responding to his kisses eagerly, enjoying the feel of his hands wandering over your bare skin.

“Want you,” he grunted, pushing his sweats down, kicking them off of the end of the bed. You yelped in shock when he dragged your body down the bed under his larger frame, silencing your noises with rough kisses that made you beg for more.

Maybe the Winchesters weren’t capable of love like normal people but you had never felt so…

_ Cherished _ .

With one thrust, Sam was inside you, filling you until your back arched in pleasure. His mouth seemed to be everywhere, teeth grazing over your sensitive skin, prompting whimpers and whines that made him growl happily.

Whispering his name, you took the chance, running your fingers through his thick locks like you’d wanted to since you’d met him. When you tugged, Sam groaned, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before kissing you hard.

“Do that again,” he purred, not stopping his assault on your body.

Happy to obey, you repeated the action; your reward was Sam’s hand clamping down on your hip hard enough to bruise the skin. He started to slam into you harder and harder, ramming the bed frame against the wall as you cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

His thumb dug into your hip harder and you whined, meeting him thrust for thrust until you were shattering into a million pieces around him. Sam grunted and went still, holding himself as deeply as possible as he came, flooding your insides.

He pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, holding his weight off of you with his elbows and knees. You struggled to catch your breath, eye closed and chest heaving, a shudder still running through your muscles with tiny aftershocks of pleasure.

“Good girl,” Sam whispered, rolling off of you and landing on his back.

A warmth spread through you with his praise.

You belonged to Sam. You belonged to Dean.

There was nowhere else you’d rather be.


	23. Chapter 23

“I definitely think the ivory is the way to go.”

You smiled tightly and nodded at the seamstress, who continued to measure your legs. In the mirror opposite, you could see yourself in full, wearing only your underwear. The other woman continued to chatter away, talking about embroidery and slimline waists; you didn’t pay attention.

Sam’s chores had taken him to the other side of town. He’d dropped you at the little wedding boutique and left his credit card, instructing the two women who ran the place to show you the best. And then he was gone.

That was two hours ago and you were a little sick of the fussing. Neither of them had mentioned the freshly healing cuts on your thighs or the bruises scattered over your skin, the latest of which was shaped like Sam’s thumbprint.

You looked like a battered woman. God knows what they must have been thinking.

Yet, staring at yourself, remembering each bruise, each scrape, each welt and cut, and how they got there. Every memory made your stomach churn and your pussy ache; somehow, the bruises made you stand taller. These were their marks and you wore them with honor.

“Have you thought about how you’re doing your hair?” the woman, Brenda, asked and you stuttered, dragging your eyes from your reflection.

“I - I don’t know.” Sam liked it up in a high ponytail, easier to grab - Dean preferred it long and loose, easy to run his fingers through. “I guess, half up?” You shrugged, figuring it was a good compromise. “I never really thought about any of this stuff.”

Brenda looked concerned. “About getting married?”

The usual answer came to your lips, the one you’d always given when someone asked about you and Ben tying the knot. “I’m more of a career girl,” you chirped before reality sank in. “I mean, was.”

She wanted to ask more questions, you could see it on her face. But the thought of Sam’s credit card kept her quiet and you were a little thankful for that.

Even if it left you alone with your own thoughts.

Brenda’s face broke into a perfect customer service smile and she gestured to the back room. “Let’s try some gowns on.” You smiled, stepping down from the small stool and following Brenda through to the back.

A lot of the gowns were too frilly - you remembered a great-aunt that had hideous toilet roll covers that seemed to have inspired at least one dressmaker. Some of them were far too long, others not suited to your frame. Brenda was right about the ivory tone - white seemed too stark.

“How about this one?”

You stared at the dress, reaching out to touch the fabric. The satin felt smooth under your fingertips and you tried to imagine yourself in it. Tried to imagine yourself standing in front of a judge, saying your vows to Sam…

“This dress would look lovely with a corset over the top. I think we have some in stock if you’d like to see how it looks?”

Your mouth felt dry. This was just a legal proceeding. Something required to legitimize any…

Fuck.

Panic closed your throat and Brenda reached out to touch you in concern. “Oh, sweetie. It can be very overwhelming. Let’s get you a glass of champagne and you can have a sit down.” You managed a nod, letting the older woman lead you away. “I think that is the dress,” she said, trying to reassure you, clueless to the real reason for your distress. “You will look beautiful.”

Sam should have been back by now. You sat in the small lounge area reserved for bridal parties, accepting the glass of champagne that Brenda gave you. “I’d like to try it on,” you whispered, looking up at her before sipping the glass. “I’m not really… I don’t know what would look good.”

“Oh, honey, that’s what I’m here for,” Brenda smiled widely, clasping her hands in front of her chest, “we’re gonna get you all fixed up. Don’t you worry bout a thing.”

*****

Sam hadn’t come back. He wasn’t answering his phone and yours was slowly dying; neither Dean or Sam had thought to charge it before they returned it. You’d tried to call Castiel, to call Elle and finally, Dean - none of them answered.

After three hours, you left the boutique, insisting to Brenda and the other woman with her that you’d be fine - you used to be a cop after all.

It helped you were armed with Sam’s credit card.

As soon as you were a few blocks from the boutique, you hailed a cab, climbing in and giving the driver instructions to drive to Grand Central Station. You ignored his attempts to talk, squirming uncomfortably on the tatty leather seat. When the cab pulled up, you tossed him a few dollars you’d had in your purse and ran for the station.

Losing yourself in the crowds, you purchased a ticket, getting onto the train with your head down. You had nothing but your purse and you clung to it, shivering on the chilly train as it started to leave the station.

It was dark when you alighted and for a little while, you stood outside the station, watching the few cars that journeyed by. You didn’t know where to go. This was your home, the place you grew up and lived your whole life. 

A squad car drove by and slowed - you noticed, frowning when it switched its lights on, turning in the road to come back to the station parking lot. With no time to run, you froze, recognizing the officer as soon as she got out of the car.

“Y/N?”

You lifted your chin and Jo stepped closer, staring at you like she’d seen a ghost. “Hey,” you said softly, still holding onto your purse like it might save you.

“Shit,” Jo gasped, shaking her head, “where the hell have you been?”

“I - I was undercover,” you stuttered out, feeling the cold seep into your bones. “I… I, er, I quit and I don’t -”

“You’re shaking,” the blonde whispered, her frown turning with her rising concern. “C’mon. It’s late. Let’s… we’ll go to my mom’s okay?” She was next to you now, shrugging off her jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. “Everything’s gonna be fine, Y/N,” she assured you, “you’re home now.”

*****

The morning came in a haze. You’d barely slept in the lumpy old guest bed at Ellen Harvelle’s and both her and her daughter were hovering like you might explode at any moment. They didn’t know what had happened and you weren’t exactly being forthcoming with the details.

A knock on the door made you look up from where you sat in the bed, hugging your knees and trying not to cry. Without waiting for entrance to be granted, your visitor opened the door; Ellen smiled when she walked in, a tray in her hands.

“Good mornin’, sweetheart,” she greeted quietly. “How are you feeling?”

You wiped at your eyes, giving her a weak smile. “I’m okay,” you lied.

She didn’t buy it but she didn’t argue, placing the tray on the nightstand. “I got ya oatmeal, just like you had it when you were a kid,” she offered, still smiling forcibly. “And orange juice. No pulp.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, making no effort to even look at the food. “I really appreciate your help, Ellen.”

The older woman sat on the side of the mattress, concern in her eyes. “Couldn’t find a charger for your phone,” she informed you, “but I can run out to the store, if you like?” You stared at your hands, nodding absently and Ellen sighed. “You’re gonna have to tell us something, darlin’.”

“I don’t know what happened to Sam.” The whisper was filled with distraught emotion and Ellen reached out, patting your foot through the covers. Lifting your gaze to hers, you couldn’t stop the tears falling. “He didn’t come back.”

Ellen sighed, glancing at the door as Jo appeared. “He was arrested,” she said softly, pushing the door open a little further to step inside. “The informant gave them your evidence after you disappeared. Everything you had at her apartment.”

The color drained from your face. “But they were only theories. Speculation.”

“Enough to hold him for 48 hours,” Jo replied, her expression compassionate.

Your mind scrambled for some explanation. The only scenario you could imagine was one where Sam and Dean rejected you because of your own stupidity. What little information you’d gathered was all circumstantial and would never hold up in court.

“Can I go with you to the store?” you asked and Ellen blinked in surprise.

“Sure, honey,” she smiled, “I gotta head to work but you wanna meet me there and we can go at lunch?”

You glanced at Jo. “Have you told the captain I’m back?”

“Not yet,” the blonde admitted, looking away, “but I have to say something, Y/N. I could lose my job. You don’t have a warrant out for your arrest but…”

“He’s gonna want to speak to me,” you muttered, dropping your gaze back to your knees. “Yeah. I know.”

Ellen slapped her knee, getting to her feet. “Well, I gotta shoot. Maybe go see your mom, Y/N. She’s been real worried about you.”


	24. Chapter 24

Jo had lent you some clothes before she left for work and you dressed hurriedly, grabbing your purse and phone in case your mom had a charger you could use. You took a cab over there and when you arrived, the nerves set in.

Ellen had assured you that your mother didn’t feel any ill will toward you but that didn’t stop you being terrified of her rejection. 

It took a few moments for you to gather up the courage to climb the steps and ring the bell.

As it turned out, Ellen had been right. Your mom was nothing but relieved to see you and spent a good hour crying into her morning coffee. It was hard to lie to her, to keep the truth of what had happened secret.

And you still weren’t sure where to go from there.

“I’ve gotta meet Ellen,” you excused, grabbing your purse and your mom’s face fell. “I’ll come back later, Mom, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay, honey,” your mother exclaimed, getting to her feet and following you to the door, “if you need somewhere to stay -”

“Thank you, Mom.” Your soft words cut her off and you could see fresh tears in her eyes as you turned to her. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I promise.” She nodded, clutching you tightly when you went in for a hug. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie,” she sobbed, reluctantly letting you go.

You hesitated on the stoop, glancing back at her. “Do - do you know how Ben is?” The older woman nodded, her posture stiffening. “Have you seen him?”

“Yes,” your mother replied. “He came by to check in on me.”

“How bad is it?”

She didn’t speak for a moment, her eyes dropping to the floor. “He’s very hurt, Y/N. He wouldn’t tell me what had happened, only that you were undercover and… he said things were over. Now, it’s none of my business, but -”

Straightening your back, your stomach churned as you looked at her. “I never set out to hurt him,” you interrupted, “but I’m not… not good for him, Mom.” The shock on your mother’s face was palpable. “I gotta go.”

You turned, resolve weakening as you jogged along the pavement. Ellen’s store was only a couple blocks from here and you made it in plenty of time, breathlessness stopping the tears that threatened your composure.

Ellen didn’t ask questions on the ride to the store. She’d always been the sort of woman that wouldn’t prod at you unless your life was at risk and right now, you were safe. When you reached the store, she parked close to the entrance, turning to you before she got out of the car.

“Take as long as you need. I’ll meet you back here in awhile, okay?”

You nodded stiffly, climbing out of the vehicle and trailing behind her into the store. It was one of those big chain places but it wasn’t too busy, allowing you to peruse the aisles in peace. Your mind was a blank of what you actually needed - Ben had apparently put all of your stuff into storage and the key was tucked into your purse.

Of course, he’d picked the most expensive one on the outskirts of town and left you with the bill.

It was the least you owed him.

Guilt gave you pause in the underwear aisle and you lowered your head, trying not to cry again. This wasn’t you. You were independent, strong - Sam and Dean couldn’t break who you were inside. Maybe the things they’d done to you, shown you…

They’d changed you but they hadn’t broken you.

Lifting your shoulders, you took a breath and started to think clearly. You had just about two days until they released Sam, unless their lawyer got there first.

Ellen was waiting by the car when you came out, looking pissed. “What’s wrong?” you asked and she sighed.

“Just some drunk asshole nearly knocked me on my ass,” she explained, opening the car door. “You get everything you need?”

“Yeah,” you grunted, climbing into the passenger side. “Hey, is my car still in the garage at the store?”

The older woman smiled, nodding enthusiastically. “Sure is. We could swing by there now and pick it up?”

You smiled widely at her. “Sounds great.”

*****

It was a forty-five minute drive to the storage unit off I-95 and you felt a little better being behind the wheel of your old red Ford. The truck was older than the day was long but your dad’s old friend Bobby Singer kept it ticking. 

For a few short moments, grief tightened your chest and you took a left off of the main road, glancing up at the darkening sky. Ellen wasn’t expecting you back - you’d told her you were going to stay with your mom, although at this point, you weren’t sure if it was true.

The cemetery was deserted when you pulled up, switching off the truck and sitting behind the wheel, looking at the rows of gravestones that lined the flat field in front of you.

You hadn’t been here in months.

Stepping out down from the truck, you closed the door quietly, glancing over your shoulder when another car drove down the street. It passed and you relaxed, making your way through the big iron gates into the graveyard.

He was six rows down, thirteen stones in.

You stopped in front of the weather-worn stone, staring at the words carved into the mottled grey rock. It still felt just as fresh, like you’d only lost him yesterday.

“Hi, Dad.”

Dropping to your knees, you reached out, tracing your fingertips over the thick letters, feeling the grooves where they’d been worn away. The habit of talking to him was one you’d picked up off of your mother and usually, it was a relief to say the words out loud, as if he could really hear you.

You couldn’t even imagine what he’d tell you in this situation. The most likely outcome would have been him marching down to the precinct before you had a chance to get yourself into this mess.

Saying anything seemed pointless, so you sat quietly, looking up at the stars. After a little while, your legs started to cramp and you got up, sighing heavily.

A prickling sensation crawled across your shoulders toward your neck and you shuddered, looking around. The sense of someone watching made you pull your jacket around your body; you swiftly turned and hurried back to the truck.

Sliding into the seat, you flexed your fingers on the steering wheel, taking a breath before reaching for your phone. It was charged enough to unplug from the cigarette lighter and you smiled when you saw missed calls and texts from Dean.

You didn’t have a chance to return them. The barrel of a gun pressed into your throat from behind and you squeaked, lifting your eyes to the mirror. Ketch grinned back at you, his face pale and drawn. Clearly he’d fallen on hard times since you’d last seen him.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he drawled, cocking the gun. “Where are you running off to?”

*****

Sam was a walking ball of nerves and rage when they finally released him from custody. Despite having the slimiest lawyer in the business, the cops had held him for the maximum amount of time they could but the DA eventually ordered him released without charge.

Dean was waiting for him outside, concern on his face. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What?” Sam snapped, walking around the other side of the Impala and climbing in. When he noticed the lack of other occupants in the car, he frowned over at his brother. “Where’s Y/N?”

“That’s the problem,” Dean replied. “We can’t find her.”

“Where the fuck would she go?”

Dean pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, pinching it. “She went home, Sam.”

“So, we go get her.”

“Not that simple. Castiel’s been tracking her for the last twenty-four hours.” Dean started the engine. “Your laptop is at the club but there’s fresh clothes in there,” he muttered, gesturing to the duffel at Sam’s feet. The younger man swooped on it, pulling the clothing out; it wasn’t the first time he’d changed in the front seat. “We know she used your credit card. She wasn’t trying to stay hidden. Y/N isn’t stupid.”

Sam frowned, his mind scrambling as he stripped off his shirt. “Head for the club. We can track her GPS. It’s gonna take me awhile to hack into the servers -”

“Let’s hope Cas finds her before we do,” Dean ground out, pulling the car onto the main highway. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

*****

The storage locker was freezing cold and you shivered uncontrollably. Your arms ached where they were above your head, held in chains high enough that your feet scraped the ground. Blood dripped from your bare toes onto the concrete floor and you could barely keep your eyes open anymore.

This was pain you weren’t used to.

Every breath hurt. You suspected Ketch had broken your ribs with the force of his blows. He’d only used his fists, beating you like a punch bag, captive to his rage.

He stood across the empty locker, cleaning his gun with his back to you. Your phone was on the side, buzzing uselessly with each call and Ketch just smiled at it. “They are persistent,” he murmured, refilling the cartridge on his pistol, cocking it and turning back to you.

You breathed through your teeth, tasting blood on your tongue. “They’re gonna kill you,” you managed, spitting claret onto the floor.

Ketch grinned. “I’ll be long gone when they get here,” he promised, waving the gun at you. It had become obvious on the drive to the storage lockup that the man was high on something - Sam hadn’t told you what had happened to Ketch but it didn’t appear to have been anything good. “Pity we don’t have long enough,” he stepped forward, pressing the gun against your crotch and you hissed in pain, “to see what all the fuss was about.”

Tears stung your eyes as Ketch moved away. “I’ll be right back. Poor old Marcus on the front desk needs dealing with.”

You swallowed, gasping in pain when your ribs ached. Marcus had been expecting payment and all he’d got was a bullet between the eyes. It was sloppy and your rational side knew it wouldn’t do what Ketch wanted - the Winchesters didn’t kill who they couldn’t buy.

The former FBI agent wanted them to rot in jail. He fully intended to kill you and pin it on the brothers. His plan was reckless, most likely drug-fuelled; you had to hope he was fucked up enough to make a mistake.

Ketch slammed the storage locker door shut, the metal shuddering in his wake and you lifted your head, scanning the room. There was nothing to help you. Your phone was out of reach and the chains weren’t slack enough -

You screamed, frustration getting the better of you.

No one answered.

*****

“You’re leaving.”

Sam’s statement made Elle look up from the desk, the dismay on his face evident. She smiled, tilting her head a little. “Did you expect me to stay?” she asked, leaning with her fingertips spread across the desk. “Sam, this club is hot property now.”

“We’ll open somewhere else, then,” Sam insisted, stepping in through the door. “Elle - there’s no one else that can this job. No one else I trust.”

“At some point, Sam, you’re gonna have to trust someone,” she sighed, standing straight. “Things have changed. We both know it. It’s time for me to move on.”

Sam shook his head. “Elle -”

Holding up a hand, she cut him off and he fell silent, the fight going out of him as his shoulders slumped. She wasn’t going to let him finish trying to talk her out of it and Sam knew better than to argue. He hadn’t won yet.

“The raid made everyone wary, Sam. You gotta see how this looks from a business perspective.” Elle strutted around the desk, picking up a file. “This is all that’s left. I shredded anything incriminating. Girls have been paid off with the promise that if they want work in the future, they’ll have first choice at any of your premises.” One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted as he hesitated and Sam took the file, sighing heavily. “If you decide to rebuild,” she said carefully, “I have a friend in Maine who would be happy to run things for you. She comes highly recommended.”

Sam’s eyes closed. “What am I gonna do without you?” he murmured.

Smiling, Elle placed a hand against his face. “You’ll figure it out. In the meantime, you need to find Y/N.” He blinked at that, confusion on his face. “Sam, she’s what you need. She’s what can help with all that darkness inside you. You need to find her before it’s too late.”

“Why do you even care?” he accused, softly.

“Because all I ever wanted was for you to be happy,” she whispered, pushing up onto her tiptoes and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Goodbye, Sam.”

“Sam!” Dean’s voice called from down the corridor, a door slamming shortly after.

Sam set his mouth in a thin line and he swallowed as he nodded at Elle, looking toward the doorway. “Benny can drive you to the station. We’re gonna go find Y/N.”


	25. Chapter 25

You couldn’t remember the last time you ate. Your mouth was dry to the point that your lips were cracking and the pain had finally given way to numbness and exhaustion. Sleep was becoming irresistible.

Ketch hadn’t come back. 

Blood had dried on your arms in long thin ribbons, the effect of struggling against the chains. It itched where it had congealed but you’d stopped paying attention as your strength faded.

You let your eyes close.

There was no point screaming. No point struggling.

*****

“Her phone is on but she’s not picking up,” Dean growled, tossing his phone across to his brother as Sam tapped furiously at his laptop. “GPS?”

“Yeah,” Sam grunted back, frowning at the screen. Dean’s phone was in his hand and lit up, Castiel’s name flashing across the screen. Sam wiped to answer it, putting the call on speaker. “Cas, where are you?”

“ _ On the I-95, _ ” Castiel replied, his words distorted. “ _ I’m near some buildings, looks like factories. _ ”

“I’ve got her,” he glanced over at Dean, “she’s in a storage facility near the Jersey turn-off.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at his brother. “That was too easy.”

“ _ I’m close by _ ,” Castiel interrupted, “ _ you can’t make it quicker than I can. _ ”

“We’re still about an hour out,” Dean said, tightening his grip on the wheel. “Don’t do anything fucking stupid.”

“ _ Define stupid _ ,” the older man retorted and Dean chuckled, shaking his head as the call ended.

“You realize this is a trap,” the elder Winchester muttered, keeping his eyes on the road, “I mean, it’s obviously Ketch.” Sam snorted but didn’t reply, tapping away at the laptop, not commenting when the car picked up speed. “We still going anyway, huh?”

Sam lifted his head, looking out of the windscreen. “I’m not going through all this bullshit to end up empty-handed, Dean. She’s ours. Which means we get her back.” Silence followed his statement and he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing the laptop. “Sometimes corpses are easier to deal with,” he muttered, prompting his brother to laugh.

“Yeah. You got me there.”

*****

With Marcus’ body in the back of the truck, Ketch wiped the blood from his hands on one of the shirts you’d bought earlier. He grabbed his gun and headed back into the storage locker, frowning when he saw you unconscious, dangling in the chains.

Cocking his gun, Ketch approached you, pressing the barrel against your lips. “I’d wake up if I were you,” he snarled, forcing the gun between your teeth. Your eyes snapped open, fresh blood trickling from your eyebrow where one of his punches had broken the skin.

Ketch forced the barrel into your mouth and you choked, gasping for breath around the metal as it knocked your teeth.

“Open wide,” he taunted.

“Hey!”

Spinning, Ketch tore the gun out of your mouth, training it on the man at the door. Castiel held his own weapon, aiming at the former FBI agent with a dangerous look on his face. “Castiel. I wasn’t expecting company.”

The gunfire made you jerk in the chains and for a second it was unclear who had fired. Castiel’s gun hit the floor and the blue-eyed man clutched his chest, blood staining his white shirt a brilliant red. You cried out, only for Ketch to backhand you into silence.

Cas dropped like a stone, eyes still open with his last breath. 

“Such an inconvenience.”

Keeping your eyes closed, you listened as Ketch moved Castiel’s body, dragging him from the storage locker out to your truck. When you were sure he was gone, you looked up, hearing sirens in the distance. On the shelf, your phone started to buzz again.

“Freeze!”

The shout made you go stiff in the chains, your eyes glued on the door. A faint red and blue glow lit up the darkness outside and you could just about make out Ketch by the back of your truck, his hands in the air.

You tried to cry out again but pain lanced through your ribs and you only managed a gasp. Ketch reached for his gun.

In the next second, there was a gunshot and a squelch. Blood and bone sprayed out of the back of Ketch’s skull, coating the back of your truck with a fresh shade of brain matter and the body fell to the floor.

Tears were streaming down your face now and you tried again to cry out. Flashlights lit up the ground, finally landing on you and you met Jo’s gaze as your former partner came into sight.

“Y/N!” She was at your side in an instant, wrapping her arms around your waist. “We need a medic in here!” Another officer was on your other side and the chains came loose, letting you fall with a forced wail of agony. Your shoulders ached and your ribs pounded pain through your entire body. “Hey, hey,” Jo soothed, laying you back as a paramedic appeared. “We got you. You’re safe.”

You didn’t need to hear any more than that.

*****

There were flashes. Distorted moments of time where you thought you might know what was going on but it seemed like a dream. Jo, telling you that you were gonna be okay. The jostling of the ambulance and the stark white ceiling panels of the hospital corridors.

Your face hurt. That was clear. Breathing was agony and when everything started to go numb after a sharp prick in your arm, you welcomed it.

Darkness was absolute bliss.

How long it lasted was a mystery. When you finally swam to the surface of unconsciousness, opening your eyes seemed too damn hard and moving even more so.

So you didn’t.

There were people in the room with you. You could hear voices, some you recognized, some you didn’t. Putting names to tones was too difficult and you drifted, half-daydreaming about wildly impossible things. It was almost like a hallucination.

The drugs started to wear off and everything became clearer. The beeping of the machines around you. Your own pained breathing. The pounding of each bruise Ketch had inflicted on your body. When you moved your fingers, you whimpered, pouting as you discovered at least one broken digit.

A warm hand covered your forearm, almost entirely.

“Ssh, pretty girl,” a deep timbre assured you, “sleep. You don’t have to wake up yet.”

Sam was there.

Calm washed through you and you felt back into unconsciousness.

*****

The second time you woke properly, Jo was there. She sat by your bed, reading a book that had seen better days and when you groaned, opening your eyes, she looked up. You pulled a face at the taste in your mouth and she smiled, grabbing the glass of water next to the bed.

“Good to see you,” she greeted, holding the glass to your lips. You sipped at it gingerly, pulling back when you’d had enough.

“Thanks,” you rasped. “What happened?”

“How much do you remember?”

Taking a breath, you winced at the pain in your ribs. “Ketch. He pulled that cheap backseat trick.”

Jo shrugged. “Phelps pulled the bullet in the head trick.”

“Yeah, I remember that part,” you mumbled, closing your eyes again. “Apparently he was pissed.” Flexing your fingers, you hissed at the fresh throb of agony that traveled up your arm. “What’s the damage?”

“Three broken ribs, two broken fingers, hairline fracture to your skull, bruises, cuts.” She gave you a hesitant look. “They said there wasn’t any evidence of -”

“No,” you cut her off, your tone spiteful, “he said he didn’t have time for that.” The disgust in your voice ignited anger in your belly that you’d never get payback. At least you’d broken his nose. “Castiel -” Jo shook her head, looking down and your stomach dropped. “I hoped he’d make it somehow,” you whispered.

“Captain wants a statement,” Jo mumbled, fiddling with the ring on her middle finger. “Obviously, we’ll wait until you’re feeling better.”

You nodded, looking at the door. The blinds were closed but there was movement behind them. “Sam was here.” The other woman didn’t answer. “Jo?”

“They’re both here,” she muttered. Her distaste for the Winchesters was clear but you didn’t have the strength to argue with her. “Do you want me to make them leave?” You shook your head lightly; Jo’s mouth set in a thin line. “Y/N…”

“Don’t,” you whispered. “You don’t understand, Jo -”

“I understand they’re dangerous,” she snapped. “I understand they’ve got fingers in every pie in the state, that they’re responsible for half a dozen federal crimes, murder -”

“I know that!”

Your exclamation was accompanied by pain cutting through your middle like a knife and you slammed your head back into the pillow. Jo fell silent, staring at you. “Do you? Because from here, it looks like you have feelings for them.” When you didn’t deny it, she shook her head, sighing heavily. “Goddamnit, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you said quietly, not meeting her eyes. A knock at the door made you both look up and when it opened, you couldn’t help the relief you felt at seeing Sam. He stepped inside, ignoring Jo’s scowl. “Sam.”

“Hey,” he murmured, purposefully avoiding Jo to walk around the other side of your bed, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your forehead. The suspicion on your former partner’s face grew more intense - you didn’t look at her, focusing on Sam. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m gonna go get coffee,” Jo announced, getting to her feet, glaring at Sam. He gave her a smile that was entirely false and for a second, she hesitated, looking at you.

The next moment, the door clicked shut and you sighed. “Getting the third degree?” Sam teased, sitting down with his elbows on the bed.

“Something like that,” you muttered, lifting your uninjured hand to cover his, needing to feel him, make certain he was real. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Sam confirmed, nodding. “Dean too.”

You glanced at the door, unsure what to say next. After what had happened because of you, you hadn’t really thought they’d come. “You’re not angry with me?” Sam frowned, a little confused shake of his head prompting you to explain. “My notes… they had you arrested and I… I left.”

“You tried to call,” Sam replied, “and when you couldn’t get hold of us, you went somewhere you thought was safe.” His hand shifted so your palms were touching. “You took a beating because of a mistake I made.”

The door opened and Dean entered, smiling when he saw you awake. “Hey, sweetheart,” he crooned, occupying Jo’s seat. 

“Y/N didn’t think we’d come get her,” Sam said slyly, an amused smile on his lips. Dean frowned and you shook your head, worried his reaction wouldn’t be good.

“No, it wasn’t that -”

“He’s playing with you,” Dean drawled and Sam snickered under his breath. You scowled, glaring at him. “Doc says we can transfer just as soon as they’ve got a cast on your hand.” 

“Wait, transfer?” Looking between them, you panicked. “Transferred where? Am I in trouble?”

“No,” Dean chuckled, placing his hand on your thigh. “We’re just getting you moved upstate to a private facility.” 

“This hospital is okay,” you insisted, frowning. “I have insurance, I’m not -”

Sam squeezed your hand lightly. “We’d feel better if you were in the city. It’s only gonna be a few days, then you can come home.” He glanced at Dean, swallowing lightly. “Dean paid the bill for your storage locker and we’ve arranged for your belongings to be put in your room at the penthouse.”

Once again, you were unsure what to say. Part of you objected to this control, to being kept.

That ended up being the part you listened to.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you said stiffly and Sam sat back, looking wary. “You can’t just take my life and box me away.” Neither brother spoke - they shared a glance, obviously not expecting the resilience. “I’m not a toy. I’m not a pet.” You leveled your gaze on Sam. “I’m not a plaything.”

He swallowed, his eyes darkening. “You’re ours, Y/N. We’ve proved that.”

Shifting on the bed, you took a breath, grinding your teeth together when your ribs reminded you once again that they fucking  _ hurt _ . “I was a cop. I was a  _ good _ cop. And then you two -” A frustrated gasp left you as you struggled to put your thoughts into words. “You changed me. I can’t go back to that life. I know that.”

Dean lifted his chin, unsure of what you were going to say. “Then what do you want?”

You faltered, opening and shutting your mouth before sinking back into your pillows. “I don’t know. Five minutes to get over being beaten and almost killed?” The heart monitor started to beep faster and your breathing grew labored, the pain in your abdomen too much to bear.

The doctor entered the room at that moment, frowning as he saw the state you were in. “I’m sorry, gentleman. I’ll have to ask for a few moments alone with my patient.” He held the door, waiting expectantly. Sam and Dean both glanced at you; you didn’t say anything, too busy trying to keep yourself under control. Slowly, they left the room, leaving you to your doctor.

Jo was in the corridor and the look on her face was thunderous.

“What did you do?” she demanded, her jaw clenching in anger.

Dean smiled, turning on the charm; he could feel Sam practically vibrating behind him, the loss of control driving him crazy. “She got a little worked up.”

“She wants to be with us,” Sam growled, his gaze still on the room. The heart monitor was slowing now and just the doctor shut the door, you opened your eyes, looking right at him.

“Bullshit,” Jo snapped. “I don’t know what the hell you did to her but I will see you both in jail.” Sam shifted but Dean slapped a hand against his chest, giving him a warning look. The petite blonde was ready for a fight and this was not the place.

Stepping closer to the smaller woman, Dean kept smiling. “Listen, sweetheart,” he mumbled, “we all care about Y/N.” Jo scoffed, staring him down. “We didn’t do anything to her that she didn’t consent to.”

“You’re fucking with her head,” Jo hissed, closing the space between them. “Why don’t you just leave her alone? You could have any woman you wanted, why her?” Sam chuckled and Jo turned her vicious glare on him. “What’s so funny?”

He looked back, smirking. “You don’t know her. She wouldn’t be happy in that apple pie life, Officer Harvelle. She needs us.”

Shaking her head, Jo gave him a mocking smile. “Your cryptic bullshit doesn’t work on me, Winchester.”

“Are we done here?” Dean asked, tilting his head. “Or do we need to take you somewhere quiet?”

“Try it,” she growled, poking him in the chest.

The door to your room opened and the doctor slipped out, holding the door again. Sam was there in an instant, bolting back through the door to your side. When Dean tried to follow, the doctor stopped him.

“I’m going to advise one visitor at a time,” he said sternly - Dean backed down, trying not to seethe at Jo’s smug grin. The doctor looked between them both, sensing the atmosphere. “And may I suggest you don’t start a fight in a hospital?”

Jo rolled her eyes, stalking off without a word and Dean took his turn to wear the smug expression. “She gonna be okay?”

“She will be fine, Mr. Winchester. Her transfer to The Grace Clinic has been approved,” the doctor accused before turning and walking off in the opposite direction to Jo. As soon as he was out of sight, Dean darted into your room and closed the door.

Sam had retaken his seat. “You okay?”

“Doctor said it was a panic attack,” you mumbled, your cheeks still flushed. “Wanted to know what got me so worked up.”

“What did you tell him?” Sam asked, worry on his face.

“What was I supposed to say?” You fixed him with a dry look. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You come home,” Dean said firmly, “and we take care of you.” He slipped back into the seat opposite his brother, leaning on the bed. “You really wanna go back?” Your bottom lip wobbled as you looked at him.

Sam’s hand covered yours again. “There’s nothing in this place for you, Y/N. You’re ours now.” He met his brother’s eyes for a second before looking back to you. “We need you, pretty girl.” Lifting your fingers, Sam kissed them softly and you hesitated, looking over at Dean.

It wasn’t the love you’d expected to find, the way you thought you end up having a family. Maybe this would give you time to figure out who this new version of you was.

“Okay,” you whispered, squeezing Sam’s hand. “I’ll come home.”


	26. Chapter 26

_ Six Weeks Later _

Mary filed for divorce a few weeks after the incident with Ketch. Her belongings were removed from her room at the penthouse and Dean took over the larger room. When you were finally discharged from The Grace Clinic and returned to what you supposed was now your home, it was odd having all the pieces of your old life around you.

A lot of it ended up in the trash. 

The day after you were released was Castiel’s funeral. It wasn’t a public affair, although there were faces you didn’t recognize. You couldn’t focus during the entire service, too filled with guilt over the man’s death. Neither Sam or Dean had shed a tear but their grief was obvious.

Now more than ever you wondered why they wanted you when you were the cause of all this.

It hadn’t taken long for the physical side of things to resume. The rules fell back into place, although you refused to walk around nude in the penthouse; Sam acquiesced and took you clothes shopping, neglecting to buy you any panties. For once, you let yourself choose clothing you actually liked and while he didn’t show it, Sam was pleased with your choices.

You weren’t going to lie - having him pay for everything gave you a little thrill. Being kept like that sounded distasteful before but you couldn’t deny the pleasures that came with being theirs. Dean and Sam worked hard and worked a lot, and when they were home, they played harder.

One sunny Wednesday morning, Sam woke you with breakfast. As you ate, he opened the curtains, before sitting next to you on the bed. He’d obviously only just showered, his hair slicked back behind his ears.

“We need to talk about something,” he murmured, pushing a loose strand of hair back over your shoulder. You swallowed a mouthful of bacon, looking up at him. “Something we haven’t discussed since the Ketch incident.” Waiting patiently, you stopped eating and Sam smiled. “The future.  _ Our _ future.”

You gave him a puzzled look when he slid one hand over your belly.

“Put the tray on the nightstand, pretty girl,” he ordered quietly and you nodded, turning quickly to obey. “You’re such a good girl for me, Y/N.” His fingers spreading across your stomach made you shiver. “Are you happy here?” You nodded again, leaning into him a little more. “Good. I want you to be happy.”

Pushing you onto your back, Sam captured your mouth in a kiss and you whined, sinking underneath him easily. His erection pressed against you through his pants and you arched, clutching at his thick biceps.

“Always so needy,” he purred, kissing along your jaw until his lips met your ear. “Bet you’re begging for my cock to fill your wet little hole.” You gasped, nodded as he groaned wantonly. “I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna make you scream, make you cum until you can’t anymore.” 

Heat pounded in your core and you spread your thighs to accommodate him, practically humping up against him. Sam chuckled at your enthusiasm, reaching down to push his pants to his knees.

“You want that, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, the slight touch of his cockhead against your folds making you clench. “Want it.”

“Want me to cum inside you?” he teased, feeding you the tip of his shaft. You nodded, head rolling from side to side as he kept holding back. “Say it.”

“Want you to cum inside me,” you cried out and he rewarded you with a shallow thrust, smirking when you grunted in frustration. “Please!”

Slowly, Sam pushed inside you, filling you to the brim and you moaned, wrapping your legs around your waist as his lips met yours again. His teeth scraped over your bottom lip and he snarled when your pussy squeezed him, trying to get him to move. “I’m gonna fill your belly,” he promised, his huge hands either side of your head, kissing you roughly. “Gonna breed you, pretty girl.”

Later, you’d feel shame at how easily you gave in. How much you wanted it.

Meeting him stroke for stroke, you matched the force behind his kisses, dragging your nails over his shoulders until they drew thin red lines of blood across his skin. Sam growled, fucking you harder, one big hand underneath your ass, tilting you up so he could drive into you deeper.

Your first orgasm was almost explosive and Sam didn’t stop; he buried his face in your tits when you arched up, biting at them hard enough to leave bruises. “Sam,” you begged and he smiled, sucking hard at your nipple.

He moved his hand, sliding his thumb against your thigh, pressed down where you’d had his mark before. “Tomorrow,” he groaned as you sucked in a harsh breath, “you’re gonna be mine. Legally. And we’re gonna mark you up, me and Dean. Make sure you know where you belong.”

“With you,” you replied automatically and Sam smiled again, pulling away; the action made you pout until he tapped your thigh.

“Present for me.”

Rolling onto your belly, you lifted your ass, tucking your knees under yourself before spreading your legs. Sam groaned, stripping his shirt off as he watched you move, exposing yourself to him, pussy glistening with wetness. You whined needily, your cunt throbbing with the lingering feel of his cock.

Placing his hands on your ass, Sam shifted, pressing his cock against your slit once again. He filled you with one thrust, the weight of his body forcing you to arch and Sam groaned at the angle. “Can feel your cunt sucking me in,” his hands slid over your ass before he slapped you hard, “so fucking wet for me.”

Spreading your knees further with his, he started to move, fucking you hard enough to punch a cry from your lips with each stroke. The bed slammed into the wall, almost drowning out Sam’s animal-like grunts and snarls.

“That’s it,” Sam murmured, “wanna feel you cum again.”

You couldn’t do anything but gasp into the pillows as his fingers gripped your hips tightly, the slap of his skin against yours echoing around the room. Lifting your ass a little more, you screamed when he found the exact spot to make your entire body shudder.

“Fuck,” his fingertips were bruising your skin, “that’s it, pretty girl.”

He didn’t warn you when he came. His nails almost broke the skin on your waist as he slammed into you harder with each crest of pleasure until he was finished, pulling away with a playful slap to your ass. Rolling onto your back, you panted, eyes closed and chin held high.

Sam’s chuckle made you open one eye to look at him. “What?”

“You,” he replied leaning over to kiss you. “I’m gonna marry you tomorrow.”

You closed your eyes again. “That’s not much of a proposal,” you muttered and he laughed again, the bed dipping under his weight. “Do I have a choice?”

Sam pulled you against his side. “Always.”

*****

Everything felt like a dream.

Despite the ordinary setting, when you’d slipped into the dress that you’d chosen weeks ago, you’d felt something odd weight down your limbs, almost like a euphoria. Though doubts still lingered in your mind, you knew you were going to go through with it.

Marriage hadn’t been on the cards for you and Ben. You’d known it really. Having a family… all that came after your career. The career you’d only pursued out of respect for your father.

The career you’d destroyed by falling in love with two men who didn’t appear capable of the same emotion. It sounded so innocuous in your head,  _ falling in love _ , when your feelings were born from sexual awakening.

There were no photos. Benny and Dean both stood as witnesses and the entire thing was over in twenty minutes. Not the stuff of fairy tales, more of convenience. Yet, you accepted it, smiling up at Sam when the judge prompted you to say the words.

_ I do _ .

The simple silver band engraved with three circles was heavy on your finger at first; it matched the one you gave Sam. When he kissed you, you responded eagerly, trying not to gasp when he leaned in and whispered in your ear so no one could hear.

“You really are mine now.”

Dean threw a box of confetti at you as you and Sam approached the car, his smile wide. “Now’s the fun part,” he commented, holding the back door open for you and his brother.

Benny was driving and he left the screen up, giving you and the two men privacy. Dean was kissing you before the car was even away from the curb, holding your face between his hands. “Two days time,” Sam whispered, pressing in behind you, “we’re gonna be in Hawaii. Private beach, private lodge.”

You pulled back from Dean, staring into his eyes. “All three of us?”

Dean glanced at his brother, smiling. “All three of us,” he confirmed. “But tonight and tomorrow?” He huffed a laugh, cupping your cheek. “We’ve got other plans.”


	27. Chapter 27

Beyond groping, they didn’t touch you in the car. You could feel just how worked up both of them were and your own anticipation of their plans made your whole body vibrate. When Benny pulled the car up to the Winchester building, Sam got out first, dragging you with him.

The lobby was empty as the three of you walked through and in the lift, Sam couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Pinned between them, you found yourself breathless from their attention - when Sam scooped you up, you shrieked in surprise and clung to his neck.

“Supposed to carry you over the threshold, right?” he teased as the doors opened. Dean went in front, disappearing off toward the lounge and Sam lowered you to the floor, kissing you again. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?”

The unexpected compliment made you blush and Sam chuckled, pulling at the bodice of your dress.

“Come with me,” he ordered, taking your hand.

“What about Dean?” you asked, glancing back toward the lounge.

“He’ll be along,” Sam promised, tugging you along. You followed willingly, confused when he took you to his room. “We’ll move your things over,” he started, opening the door, “but from now on, you sleep in here.” Swallowing, you let him pull you inside, looking around the large bedroom. You had been in there before but only briefly - Sam had preferred to use your room.

Dean didn’t really care  _ what _ room he was in.

Sam’s bed was just as big as yours, although his decor was a little more luxurious - you supposed your room had only been temporary, a guest room. Everything in here was more personal. And Sam’s tastes definitely ran toward red. The deep mahogany-paneled walls were decorated with bookshelves, some of the tomes ancient-looking and dusty.

“Over here,” Sam whispered, leading you to the furthest wall, to a door you’d assumed was a closet. “I’ve been saving this one thing for tonight,” he continued, clasping the door handles in his big hand. “I think you’re gonna enjoy it.”

You waited apprehensively as he opened the door, revealing not a closet but a smaller adjoining room. It appeared to be soundproofed, like the one at the mansion, except the metal frame in the middle wasn’t metal. This frame was wooden, covered with leather cushioning and appeared to be movable, almost like a gym bench.

He led you inside, positioning you in front of him, his chest to your back. “I had it specially made,” Sam’s lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, “but never found anyone worthy of it.” His fingers were unlacing your bodice now and you bit your lip, keeping your eyes on the bench. “It’s called a breeding bench.”

Warm flushed between your thighs as Sam pulled the bodice off, tossing it to one side. He didn’t speak again, turning his attention to the rest of your dress. It came off of your shoulders easily, the soft material falling to pool around your feet, leaving you naked save for your ballet pumps.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he crooned, kissing your bare shoulder. “You really are perfect.”

A low whistle made you both turn to Dean, who lounged in the doorway, three glasses dangling from one hand and an expensive-looking bottle of champagne in the other. He removed the jacket of his Armani suit and unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt. “Damn,” he chuckled, closing the door with his foot. “Sammy, you are a lucky guy.”

“We both are,” the younger man replied, turning you to face him. “Do you like your surprise?”

Your eyes flicked back to the bench, the simple name of it making you shudder. “Yes, sir.”

“You can have a closer look if you want,” he encouraged; you nodded, slipping your shoes off and gathering your dress from the floor. Sam smiled at your eagerness, keeping his dark eyes on you as you approached the breeding bench, running your fingers over the smooth leather. “It’s comfortable,” he murmured, coming up behind you. “Well, as comfortable as we want it to be.”

Dean smirked from his position on the other side of the room, next to a huge dresser. He poured out the champagne, sauntering over with one for Sam and one for you. Your eyes went wide at the offer of the drink and you glanced to Sam for confirmation.

“We’re celebrating,” he drawled, holding his glass up toward you. “Takes more than one glass to dull my senses, pretty girl.”

You smiled, lifting the glass to your lips. Champagne was never a taste you acquired, but you could stomach it and as Sam said, you were celebrating. Dean returned with his own glass, sliding around his brother to stand on your other side. His free hand slipped around your bare waist, laying across your hip.

“You’re a Winchester now, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss the spot below your ear. You shivered, meeting Sam’s eyes. Dean laughed under his breath, knocking back his champagne in one hit.

Sam wrapped his fingers around your glass the second it was empty. “Wanna give this a try?” he asked, gesturing to the bench. Nodding, you took a step closer to it, inspecting the lower two pads that appeared to where you would kneel. “It’s okay,” Sam soothed, suddenly behind you, sans his suit jacket, one hand on your ass whilst the other took your elbow.

The leather was as soft as it looked and you easily slipped your knees into place, leaning over the large top pad. It was separated in the middle, presumably providing a space for your breasts. Sam didn’t correct you when you laid forward, wiggling into a comfortable position. Your arms fit nicely on the pads either side, leaving your chin on the edge of the top cushion. Dean moved, standing in front of you and you noticed with reddening cheeks that you were at eye level with his crotch.

“Now you’re gettin’ the idea,” he murmured, amused by your reaction. “Since Sammy won’t let me fill up your pretty little cunt anymore.”

Sam grunted behind you and a second later, you felt straps cover your ankles. He appeared in your peripheral vision as he moved to strap down your wrists against the armrests, leaving you entirely bound. “There’s a few additions to this but we’re only after one thing this time around.”

Dean smirked, bending down. “Sam said you liked it yesterday,” he purred, cupping your chin. “Said when he talked about breeding you, you came hard enough for him to see stars.” You licked your lips, vaguely aware of Sam undressing. “You want him to breed you now?”

Managing a nod, you hummed happily when Dean kissed you, wiggling a little with the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Sam laughed, teasing your soaked slit with his fingers. “She’s soaked,” he commented, easing two digits inside you, dipping them in and out to make you whine needily. “You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, pretty girl,” he reminded you.

You pouted at that, looking up at Dean. He stood straight, unbuckling his belt, pushing his suit pants down, along with his boxers. His cock was already hard, the tip glistening with precum. “Open your mouth, slut.”

Obeying instantly, you stuck your tongue out, enthusiastically lapping at his dick, humming happily at the taste of him on your tongue. Dean let you do what you wanted, holding steady as you worshiped him.

Sam chuckled, rubbing one big hand over your ass cheek; you braced yourself for the slap that you knew was coming, anticipating the pain. When his palm smacked into your ass, you closed your eyes, barely making a sound. He repeated the action, smirking in satisfaction when you kept sucking at Dean’s cock, your pussy almost dripping with need.

“Dirty little bitch,” he muttered, walking back over to the dress and picking something up. Returning to the same spot between your bound legs, Sam pressed the object against your lower back, the cold steel making you shudder. Two fingers slipped through your folds, rubbing you as the knife stroked your skin. “I can feel how wet you’re getting,” he groaned, “just from this.”

The knife moved again and you stretched forward, taking more of Dean’s shaft into your mouth. “Fuck, Sammy,” Dean grunted, “she sucks harder when you do that.”

“Our little pain slut,” Sam murmured, dropping to his knees behind you. “We’re gonna mark you properly,” he promised, dragging the tip of the knife along your thigh before pressing it to your labia. You tensed, trying to keep still while continuing to fuck Dean with your mouth.

“Thought we agreed on stomach?” Dean’s words went right over your head as Sam’s mouth sealed around your clit, the knife lingering against your thigh. You moaned and clenched, looking up when Dean slid his fingers through your hair, loosening it from the stylish bun it had been in.

“Thighs are better,” Sam responded, sounding a little breathless as he kept eating you out. “One each. Besides, she likes having marks there. The knife pressed in when Sam pulled back and you whined, picking up speed.

Sam resumed his assault on your pussy, fucking his tongue into you as the cold steel kept teasing your leg. You gasped and writhed, still working at Dean’s cock, desperate to cum but held back by Sam’s order. He laughed as your walls convulsed around his thick tongue, your body starting to shake with unreleased bliss.

Dean was thrusting now, holding your head with one hand as the other held his shirt up out of the way. Your nose brushed his pubic hair with each stroke and you drooled uncontrollably, easing the slick slide of his length into your throat. “You gonna swallow what I give you?” he asked, tugging your hair a little as he pulled away, letting you gulp down breaths of air.

“Yes, sir,” you whined, your mouth quickly refilled with his shaft.

Pulling away, Sam abandoned you for a moment before returning, the sound of something vibrating making you jump. The tip of cool plastic pressed to your hole, slowly sinking into you, the strong vibration testing your limits.

“Wanna feel you cum,” Dean soothed, panting as he fucked your mouth. “Bet that feels good inside you, doesn’t it?” He stroked your cheek, smiling. “Maybe Sammy’ll fuck your ass with it while he’s filling your cunt.”

You wailed around his dick, feeling Sam press the knife into your thigh again. It broke the skin, the burst of pain connecting with the pleasure of the vibrations inside you, completely crumbling your resolve and you came, unable to make much of a noise with Dean’s cock in your mouth. Sam covered the wound with his mouth, sucking lightly.

Your head was spinning and Dean pulled away, letting you catch your breath as Sam started to move the vibrator inside you. You shuddered, feeling something drip down your leg - you were unsure if it was blood or your own juices but either way, Sam licked it up, making you whine loudly.

Dean returned, pressing his cockhead against your bottom lip and you parted your lips, accepting him in one stroke. He groaned, picking up the same pace he’d had before.

The knife cut into you again.

Riding high on the coattails of your climax, you couldn’t help but moan around Dean’s cock, your eyes rolling back as Sam kept cutting, deep enough to bleed but not deep enough to be dangerous. Each stroke was accompanied by his mouth and by the time he was done, you were a quivering mess, desperate for something thicker than the vibrator still filling you.

Dragging the toy free, Sam got to his feet, tossing the knife away. He fisted his painfully hard cock, looking down at you with the vibrator in his hand. “You know,” he drawled, slicking his cockhead through your soaked folds, “Dean occasionally has good ideas.”

You didn’t have time to figure out what he meant - he penetrated you in one smooth stroke and for a moment, you could have sworn you were watching yourself, immobilized on the breeding bench with both working you from each end.

Then Sam pressed the vibrator against your asshole, your juices slicking its path inside you.

Pleasure became overwhelming and you heard Dean curse, his fingers tightening almost painfully in your hair. A split second later, his release spilled down your throat and Sam pushed the vibrator all the way in.

Filled in all three holes, you hovered on the edge of consciousness, reflexively swallowing around Dean’s softening cock, licking him clean before he pulled away. Your head dropped, bliss making your limbs heavy as Sam started to fuck you, his thick cock spearing you open as he kept the vibrator inside your ass.

The wound on your leg throbbed, piercing through the pleasure, amplifying it. Without Dean stifling your noises, you cried out and Sam growled, slapping your ass hard.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he snarled, sweating from the exertion, your blood smeared around his mouth. His hair fell in his face and as he started to near his end, he pulled the vibrator out of your ass, tossing it aside and reaching for your hair. Pulling your head back, he pressed his lips against your ear. “Cum on my cock. Wanna feel that little cunt milk me dry.”

The angle he had you at meant you couldn’t breathe easily and the lack of oxygen only made your head spin more. His cock throbbed inside you and you wailed as loudly as you could, losing yourself to the pleasure of his touch.

Sam came with a sound you could only describe as a roar, his cum thick and warm as it spurted inside you. You gasped for breath and Sam released you, near to collapsing as he rode out the last vestiges of his orgasm.

“Good girl,” he soothed, panting against your back. “Such a good girl.”

Dean was in front of you again, nude now and holding another glass of champagne. You smiled languidly at him and he grinned back. “Yeah she is.”


	28. Chapter 28

_ Wailea Beach, Hawaii _

The cramps woke you at sunrise and you slipped from between the two slumbering Winchesters, sneaking to the bathroom to relieve yourself. Disappointment you hadn’t been expecting stirred when you realized your period had turned up, bang on time.

It was going to be hard to hide when for the last week, you’d been nude pretty much of the time. The luxury beach resort was private and your villa was a secluded hideaway on the beachfront. Wailea Beach was paradise, the perfect honeymoon getaway, and you’d been indulged with every whim and fantasy. 

A groan let you know Sam was awake, so you cleaned up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom and hesitating as you saw him sitting up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning at you.

Oh god. Your stomach churned from a mixture of hunger, cramps and nervousness. “Er, I,” you stuttered, wringing your hands together, “I need some panties.”

Sam pulled his head back. “Did you want to go out?” He glanced at the clock. “Even I don’t get up this early.” Dean stirred, rolling over and disturbing the covers, giving you a full view of his bare ass. He snorted once and resumed snoring, making Sam huff a laugh. “Y/N, come back to bed.”

“I can’t,” you whimpered, shaking your head. “I… it’s…” His frustration was becoming obvious and he pulled the sheets off, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. You backed away, which only annoyed him more. “I’m on my period,” you blurted out, bursting into tears.

Freezing, Sam’s eyes went wide. You stood there shivering, hugging yourself and when he moved, you were half convinced that he was going to punish you.

Instead, he took your hand, pulling you back to the bed. “Stop fretting,” he soothed, pulling you into his lap and you sniffed, trying not to pay attention the way his cock swelled under your butt. “Why were you so scared?”

“I thought you’d be mad,” you confessed, burrowing yourself against him.

“I’m only mad when you won’t talk to me,” Sam murmured, cupping your face and kissing you softly. “I don’t care about a little bit of blood, pretty girl.” His cock was definitely taking interest now and he chuckled, feeling you squirm against him. “You gonna deny me the feel of that sweet little cunt on my dick?”

“Most men don’t -”

His fingers pressed between your thighs, making you gasp in surprise. “I’m not most men,” he corrected, sinking two digits into your over-sensitive pussy. You whimpered, clutching at his shoulders as he started to fuck you slowly, groaning at the way your cunt tightened around him. “Besides, it’ll help with the cramps.”

Sam shifted you, curling his fingers inside your body until you squeaked and buried your mouth in the curve of his throat. He growled when you started to move back against him, responsive to his touches. Dean stirred, rolling over as he hear your sounds, smiling at you over Sam’s shoulder.

“That’s one way to wake up,” he grunted, laying on his side with one hand wrapped around his cock, stroking lazily as he watched his brother work you into a frenzy. You cried out when Sam’s fingers hit your sweet spot, making your legs shake uncontrollably.

“You can cum,” Sam whispered, dragging his thumb across your clit.

Your orgasm was quiet but enough to make you pant against Sam’s shoulder. Dean watched, eyes dark as Sam pulled his hand away, holding up the two red-stained fingers. When he pressed them into his mouth, you shuddered, not quite sure how to deal with the fresh arousal that bloomed at his carnal act.

He pulled you off of his lap, back into the middle of the bed where Dean instantly pressed up behind you. You arched, whining loudly when he slipped one hand around your waist, resuming his brother’s attack on your clit.

“Want us both, baby?” he purred as Sam shifted himself so he was laying down facing you. “Want us both inside you?”

Sam’s mouth closed around your right nipple and you gasped, nodding feverishly. Pulling one of your legs over his thigh, Sam teased the head of his cock against your hole. He sank into you slowly, drawing out the penetration until your head tipped back and you released a breathy moan.

Behind you, Dean moved away for a brief second - when he returned, two cool fingers pressed against your exposed asshole, lube slicking their way. You squirmed on Sam’s dick, desperate for him to move but he remained stubbornly still, waiting for Dean.

“Please,” you hissed, digging your nails into Sam’s shoulders.

“Patience,” Dean ordered, slowly pushing his fingers in and out to loosen you a little. When he finally replaced his fingers with the tip of his shaft, your whole body buzzed with anticipation.

He pressed in, feeding inch by inch into your ass, pulling back when the resistance returned. Attempting it again, your muscles relaxed, allowing his thick cock to fill you completely. The significant stretch of them inside you made your mind lose all cognitive reasoning beyond the need to fuck.

“Good girl,” Dean praised, his mouth by your ear. His fingers danced over the  _ D.W. _ carved into your left thigh, the tissue pink and tender where it was still healing.

Sam moved first, drawing back and sliding back in, pressing you back into his brother, forcing him to move. You could feel them rubbing through the thin wall of your sex; the sensation was overwhelmingly pleasurable and you gasped, struggling to remember how to breathe.

“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” Sam murmured, his mouth hovering over yours. You managed to nod, your lungs burning when he seized your lips in a bruising kiss. Together, they picked up a rhythm, one in, one out, over and over until the fires in your belly were burning bright enough to force your eyes closed.

Sam’s teeth dug into your throat and the added pain made you buck between them. Dean held your hips in a bruising grip, slamming into your ass hard enough for the slap to echo around the room. You came without much warning, squeezed both of them tightly and producing twin moans.

“Gonna fill you up,” Dean warned, “wanna feel my cum in your belly, sweetheart?”

A wheezed  _ yes _ passed your lips and he growled, thrusting harder. Sam seemed lost in bliss, his lips twisted into a snarl as he fucked into your pussy, the warm of your blood and cum making him almost primal.

You lose all sense of time and reason. There was only you and them.

Dean came first, pumping into you until cum splattered your thighs, his drawn-out guttural moan vibrating against the back of your neck. Sam wasn’t far behind, biting at your throat again as he pumped his seed into your belly.

The three of you laid there, sweaty and tangled, sharing lazy kisses until Dean grunted in discomfort. He moved, pulling away and grabbing a towel from the floor, tossing it toward you and his brother. “I’m grabbing a shower,” he muttered, heading for the bathroom.

“You wanna join him?” Sam asked, still thick and hard inside you. “I don’t mind.”

“No,” you sighed. “Wanna stay here.” He chuckled, smoothing your hair back. His cock twitched and you hummed, squeezing back in response. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, looking up at him. He smiled, kissing you softly.

“There’s always next month,” Sam promised, nuzzling into your throat and you sighed in contentment, letting your eyes close.

*****

_ Three months later _

It was raining as you walked down the street toward the New York City Library, lunch in hand from the little sandwich shop Castiel had taken you to. Benny probably wasn’t far behind but you ignored him, knowing he was only doing his job.

You’d picked up the habit when Sam and Dean had had to commit more time to the club, now they’d found a premises. Half the time they weren’t home anymore and you’d started to get used to sleeping alone again.

The bonus of all the free time was picking up on hobbies you’d discarded as a child and learning new ones. Reading was one hobby and when you’d grown tired of Sam’s collection of books, you’d headed out to the library.

You liked it there. The staff were friendly and you liked to watch the people that came and went; some of the most fascinating interactions happened in complete silence. Couples were more giggly and touchy with each other; old married people who sat closer than they would at home to share a book; mothers teaching their excited children to read.

It was peaceful.

Today, it wasn’t so busy. You found your usual spot at one of the large tables and sat down with your chosen book. Quickly finding yourself engrossed in the story, you didn’t notice a woman pull up a seat beside you.

“You know, I’ve never read that,” she said quietly, startling you. Glancing up, you took in the blonde hair with the side-braid and the dark makeup. “Is it any good?”

“Er,” you looked at the book, stumbling for something to say, “I’ve only just started it.”

“Oh,” the girl smiled. “You’ll have to let me know if it’s good.” There was a pause and you wondered when you’d gotten so bad at talking to people. “I’m Claire by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied, a little wary of her friendliness but jerking your head toward her book. “What are you reading?”

“I’m working my way through a Song Of Ice And Fire,” she announced, holding up her dog-eared copy of  _ A Storm Of Swords _ . “I’ve read them before but they’re really good books.”

You nodded, smiling a little. “I like that series. Have you watched the show?”

“Oh totally,” Claire giggled. “I really like Jon Snow.”

“He’s okay,” you shrugged, “but I’m a Gendry fan.”

“My boyfriend won’t watch it with me anymore,” the other woman sighed, leaning on her hand. “He gets annoyed with me making noises at the screen.” Smiling, you ducked your head. “What about your boyfriend?”

You blinked, unsure where to look. “My, er, my husband. We usually watch it with his brother.” The heat in your cheeks turned up to eleven. “No noises though.” Claire laughed again, placing her hand on your arm.

“I like you, Y/N,” she said. “I’ve only just moved here so it’s nice to meet friendly people.”

“There’s a lot of assholes in New York,” you answered, glancing at your phone. “I’ve really gotta get going.”

“I made you uncomfortable,” Claire realized, eyes widening. “You only just got here and you… I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I dared myself to talk to someone today and you… kinda drew the short straw.” She smiled apologetically, moving to get up. “Don’t leave. Stay. Enjoy your book.”

Guilt made you pause, watching her move. With a sharp breath, you spoke; “Wait.” Claire turned back, worry on her face. “I’m sorry,” you met her eyes, “I’ve had a rough week and… I shouldn’t take it out on you when you’re just trying to be friendly.”

The blonde woman softened. “It’s okay. I'm known for overstepping on occasion. I really don’t mind if you want me to leave.”

“No, please, stay.” You patted the seat she’d left. “It would be nice to talk to someone.”


	29. Chapter 29

The room was a sterile white and smelled faintly of disinfectant. You kept your eyes on the ceiling, swallowing thickly when Doctor Wells started to examine you. “Is that alright, dear?”

“Yes,” you whispered, feeling Sam squeeze your hand.

A few moments passed and the doctor reappeared from between your legs, pulling the cover down. He gave you a smile and put his instruments away, removing his gloves. “Now, Mrs. Winchester. It’s only been a couple of months so there’s no need to fret. Everything looks good from here but we should have the test results back in a few days.”

“Any advice?” Sam asked and the doctor smiled. 

“The usual,” he replied, “eat well, sleep well, avoid stress, keep alcohol to a minimum. It may be a good idea to ease up on any strenuous sexual activity.” You looked away, blushing furiously as Sam chuckled. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Winchester,” Doctor Wells chuckled, “it’s a perfect healthy expression of sexual desire. As long as you’re safe, sane, and consensual.”

Sam raised an eyebrow when you smiled. “Very,” you whispered, glancing at Sam. He grinned back, getting to his feet.

“I’ll let you get dressed,” Doctor Wells murmured, heading for the door. As soon as it was closed, Sam captured your lips in a kiss, pressing his tongue against yours and groaning.

“We’ll just have to try harder,” he promised. “It’ll happen, pretty girl. Let’s get you home so you can rest.”

You frowned, pulling back a little way. “I’m not sick, Sam.” Hopping down off of the table, you snatched your dress from the hanger by the door and disappeared behind the curtain in case the doctor returned. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves.”

“You heard the doctor,” Sam replied, his tone cool. “No strenuous activity.” Grunting in frustration, you dressed and dragged the curtain back to look up at Sam. “It’s fine. Dean and I can deal with it.”

“Deal with what?” you snapped, folding your arms over your chest.

“Satisfying our needs,” Sam shrugged, turning his back on you and your stomach dropped as you realized what he meant. If you couldn’t provide what they desired, they’d find it elsewhere. You couldn’t summon the energy to say anything and when Sam opened the door, jerking his head for you to hurry up, you skulked past him, avoiding eye contact the entire way home.

You spent the night alone again, wondering if your two lovers were elsewhere with a woman who could give them more than a uterus.

Morning came and you woke with the dawn, finding yourself alone in bed and apparently, alone in the penthouse. Neither brother had come home and you were shocked with the force of your emotions. Tears came thick and fast; you locked yourself in the bathroom adjoining Sam’s room and climbed into the shower, letting the spray wash away your sobs.

You’d known this would happen. 

Yet you were stupid enough to stay.

*****

You stayed in the shower until the water ran cold. When you’d gotten out and dressed, neither Sam or Dean had come home and you grabbed your purse, deciding not to sit at home and wallow. A full day of shopping made you feel a little better, even though it was only a shallow happiness that you knew wouldn’t last long.

Sam was at the penthouse, sitting in the kitchen when you returned and he looked unhappy. You went to the bedroom, putting your bags away and removing your illicit panties before heading to the kitchen to fix dinner. 

“You were out all day,” he stated, his tone neutral as he watched you move around the kitchen. Since you’d started living here, the fridge had actual food in it - being home meant you could cook properly.

“I went shopping,” you said, shrugging.

“I saw.”

There was an awkward silence and your stomach churned; you slapped your best Stepford Wife face on and turned to face him. “I was thinking about doing those steaks for dinner. Is Dean gonna be back or -”

“You’re angry with me,” Sam interrupted, “but I can’t figure out why.”

“No, I’m not,” you replied, too quickly, averting your eyes.

“You’re not a good liar, Y/N,” Sam reminded you, getting to his feet and walking around the kitchen island. “Tell me what I’ve done to upset you.”

You stepped back, away from his intimidating form, ignoring the voice in your head that screaming at him. That told him you were worth more than this, than you weren’t a broodmare or a sexy toy; you were a person and he was acting like a piece of -

“Y/N,” he repeated your name, reaching out to cup your chin. “Tell me what’s wrong. I want you to be happy.”

_ And I want you to be faithful _ , your mind provided, tears punctuating your internal monologue. Sam frowned, wiping the first to fall away with his thumb.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “Just hormonal. The thing with the doctor yesterday and -”

He bought it, pulling you into his chest, stroking one big hand over your hair. Inside, your inner voice crowed -  _ ‘who’s a bad liar now?’ _

“We’re gonna get there, baby,” Sam promised, like he had in Hawaii, on the honeymoon that felt like a dream now. When you’d had all of their attention and interest for two whole weeks. “Just have to be patient.”

You nodded, still avoiding his eyes. “Steaks?” you asked again and Sam smiled, cradling your face between his hands.

“Dean will be back later. How about we leave dinner for now?”

“O-okay,” you murmured, looking down as Sam took your hands and pulled you toward the door. “What are -”

“I want my pretty girl all laid out for me,” he instructed, his smile turning predatory. “Can’t help it; whenever I see you, I just wanna be inside you.” The filthy talk worked, inspiring a burst of arousal in your core as he led you to the bedroom, not stopping there. You shivered in anticipation as he pulled you through the door, closing it behind you.

How easy it was for him to make you forget.

Sam’s impatience cost you your shirt and when he finally had you cuffed to the bench, laid flat on your back, he still couldn’t wait. He knelt between your legs, feasting on your aching cunt until you were sweating and writhing in the restraints, begging for him to fuck you.

Dinner never got cooked and you didn’t sleep alone that night.

*****

Sam was gone by noon the next day, leaving you alone once again. Dean had come home late the night before and between the two of them, you’d barely had any energy left to move. When you did drag yourself out of bed, Dean was gone too and you sighed, knowing it had been a mere distraction for them. While you felt the deep satisfaction of what they’d done to you, the bruises and marks littering your body reminding you with every movement, you’d been denied for so long, you craved more.

You headed back to the library, texting Claire on the way. Several times during the last few months, you’d hung out with her at the library or the small cafe just off Broadway that did the best hot chocolate you’d ever tasted. She was a good friend, someone to talk to, although you avoided the more personal subjects.

Luckily for you, Claire was chatty.

She was waiting in the usual spot when you got to the library and as you sat down, she frowned. “Everything okay?” she asked and you blinked at her. “You’ve got a bruise -” Her fingers skimmed your wrist - you’d pulled at the cuffs last night and the skin around both wrists was blackened and mottled with marks.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckled. “I had a little accident last night.” Claire didn’t look convinced and you brushed over it, pulling out a book. “I picked this up at Barnes & Noble yesterday,” you said, holding it out to her. “I know it’s kinda cheesy but it was one of my favorites growing up. Have you ever read it?”

The other woman took the book, peering at the cover. It was black, with a single wolf on the cover, howling in at the sky. “Call Of The Wild. Hey, isn’t this the guy that wrote White Fang?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I always loved it when I was a kid. My dad read it to me.”

Claire tilted her head, giving you a serious look. “Y/N, you know you can talk to me about anything right? I know we haven’t been friends for long but -”

“Seriously,” you assured her, smiling brightly, “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern but I’m really okay.” She still didn’t look like she believed you but she dropped the subject and you relaxed a little, pointing at her book. “Another saucy one?”

A grin spread across her face. “A really saucy one. Wanna swap?”

“Hell yes.”


	30. Chapter 30

“Opening night is this Saturday,” Sam said, standing behind you as you stared at the dress. It was a gorgeous floor-length black gown, with a dipped neckline that showcased your cleavage. “I want you to be there.”

You blinked, turning to face him. “You want me there?”

“Of course,” Sam grinned, cupping your face, “I actually wanted to ask if you’d maybe help run the place.” The surprise on your face made his grin widen.

“Elle won’t come back, huh?” You’d kept in contact with the former manager, despite not knowing if she was trustworthy - you enjoyed talking to her. She’d started running a ladies club in San Antonio and was apparently enjoying the change of scenery.

Sam snorted in amusement. “Nope. I take it she told you how many times I begged?”

“I think at a certain point, she was just enjoying it,” you teased, pushing up onto tiptoes. “I’ve missed you, Sam. Are you gonna be home more now everything is sorted out?”

He hummed, cupping your cheek as you kissed him softly. “Yeah,” he promised, smiling as he kissed you back. “You gonna answer the question?”

“You really want me to help?”

Pulling you toward the bed, Sam nodded. “You’re smart and capable. Elle said when you helped her out with the admin, you picked it up really quickly. And I know you’re bored -”

“I’m not bored,” you protested and he laughed, shaking his head, dragging you down onto the mattress and covering your body with his.

“You’re still a bad liar.” Arguing was overtaken by kissing and Sam pushed your flimsy summer dress up, mouthing at the top of your slit. “Why don’t you just stay there and let me eat you out? I’ve only got about twenty minutes.”

Pushing at his shoulder, you frowned down at him. “You’re leaving?”

“Still got a lot of work to do before Saturday,” Sam mumbled, dragging his tongue over your folds. “But I can make you feel good before I go.”

“I thought you were staying longer…” You trailed off when he lifted his dark eyes to look at you, irritation in his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t - I just -” A frustrated sigh left you and you pushed your dress down, covering yourself.

“Did I say you could do that?”

“Oh,  _ now _ you wanna order me about,” you snapped, attempting to move away from him. “I’ve barely seen you or Dean the last two months. I’ve done  _ everything _ and you’re… you’re still getting bored with me.” His expression twisted as you tried not to cry. “Is it because I haven’t gotten pregnant yet?”

Shock contorted his face. “What? No! These things take time, I wasn’t -”

“Then why don’t you touch me like you used to?” Your question was quiet and Sam swallowed, staring down at you as he prevented you from moving. “The other night… god, I needed it. I need you to hurt me, Sam. You can’t show me what I need and then take it away.”

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. You didn’t know what else to say, laying there, trying not to cry.

Sam moved, climbing off of the bed and walking toward the door. For a second, you thought he was going to leave and the tears threatened to spill again.

He flicked the lock and turned back to you.

“Strip.”

You stared at him, confused, and Sam snarled the word again.

This time, you moved, tearing your dress off.

“Stand.”

You obeyed, shivering as he stalked toward you. His hand lifted, closing around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you take a sharp breath.

“You want pain?” he asked. “Does it make you cum harder, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

His other hand curled around your hip and he smiled hungrily. “Present.”

Scrambling onto the bed, you did as he ordered, raising your ass in the air and stretching your arms out over your head. You waited, your heart thundering in your chest as you heard Sam taking his clothes off and opening a drawer.

Something cold touched your bare ass. It was thin, ridged in places and your stomach churned as you realized what it was.

“You’re going to learn not to talk out of turn,” Sam murmured, dragging the cane over your ass, tapping it lightly against your cheeks. You whimpered, lifting your ass a little more.

The first blow hurt more than you expected. He put more force behind the second and you cried out, pussy clenched as pain sang across your skin. When he hit you a third time, the cane broke the skin, leaving a large welt oozing blood down your thigh.

“You wanted the pain,” Sam growled, leaning down to drag his tongue over the wound, “maybe now you’ll learn not to deny me.”

You wanted to protest, say that you hadn’t denied him. You’d  _ never _ denied him. You had no reason to. But Sam was angry, at you or something else, it didn’t matter. The punishment was yours.

The cane came down again and again until you were sobbing into the comforter, desperate to cum. Only then did Sam stop, fisting his cock as he pressed the tip into your soaked hole. “You’re mine,” he snarled, filling you with one thrust. “And you’re going to remember that.”

His fingers tugged on your hair, pulling your head up so he had more leverage. The angle of penetration had your eyes rolling back in your head but before you could give in, Sam reminded you of the rules.

“You’re not allowed to cum.”

Frustration made you whine but Sam ignored it, fucking into you hard enough for the welts on your ass to sting. He grunted like an animal, chasing his release without a care for yours. When he came, he pulled your hair hard enough that you cried out, bucking back onto him.

Dropping you onto the bed, Sam dressed without speaking.

You just about managed to hold off the tears until the door closed behind him.

*****

The call of your name made you look up and you straightened as Claire approached, concern on her face. She slipped into her usual seat, placing her coffee cup on the wooden table. “Hey,” she greeted and you forced a smile onto your face. “I texted you this morning, you didn’t answer.”

“I was busy,” you lied, still smiling. The skin around your eyes felt stretched and puffy and you knew there was no way she wouldn’t figure out you’d been crying. “Chores and stuff, y’know.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” Claire admitted. “I’ve been worried about you since -” You stared at her, putting a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Y/N… you’ve been crying.”

With a sniff, you glanced away. “It’s nothing.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Claire chided, giving you a dry look, “I’m not an idiot. The bruises, the crying. I know who you’re married to.” That caught your attention and you sat forward. “Y/N Winchester? How could I not know?”

“It’s a common last name,” you replied stiffly, slipping your book into your bag. “I’m sorry, Claire, I’ve really gotta go.”

“More chores?” she asked, snidely. “Or is that Sam yanking your collar?” You froze, one hand on the table, a foot stuck out where you’d been about to leave. Claire folded her arms over her chest. “We’ve been talking for months and you barely say anything. But it’s easy to pick up.”

“Who the hell are you?” you hissed, clutching the table tightly now.

Claire eyed you carefully, shaking her head. “I’m undercover. Like you were.” Dread flooded your stomach and you glanced around, all too aware that Benny was  _ somewhere _ , watching you like always. “Listen, Y/N, I’m a cop. NYPD. And I know what the Winchesters are doing to you.”

“You don’t have a fucking clue,” you spat, getting to your feet. “Lose my number. I’m not interested.”

“You’ve got Stockholm Syndrome,” Claire tried desperately, reaching out to grab your wrist. “Y/N, listen to me -”

You snatched your hand out of her hold. “Leave me alone!”

Benny appeared and you almost sighed in relief. “Everythin’ okay, cher?” he asked - for a moment, Claire looked genuinely terrified you’d rat her out. You smiled, looking up at Benny.

“I’m fine. Would you give me a ride home?”

“Y/N -” Claire tried again but you ignored her, following Benny out of the door. As soon as you were at the car, he stopped, turning to face you.

“Who was that?” he asked, sounding more curious than anything.

“A friend,” you replied. “She was anyway. Some people just…” Sighing, you shook your head. “Nevermind. I want to go home.” Benny frowned, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“You look a little pale, cher. You want me to call the boss?”

“No.” Pulling away to open the car door, you gave him what you hoped was a confident smile. “Can we stop at the store on the way back?”

*****

There was a sense of dread and joy mixing together in your gut as you stared at the white stick on the bathroom sink. The porcelain was cold under your hands and you weren’t sure if you were going to puke.

You were pregnant.

Tonight was the opening for the club and you didn’t know whether to tell Sam before or after. You knew he’d be happy, it was your purpose.

The only one you seemed to have left.

A knock at the bedroom door made you hurriedly hide the test and you rushed out, just as Benny opened the door. Smiling, you tugged your robe tighter around your middle. “Hey.”

“Just checking you’re okay, cher. It’s nearly noon.”

“I slept in,” you replied, moving over to the bed. “Are Sam or Dean back yet?” Benny’s silence was all the answer you needed and you sat down on the bed. “Guess I should get used to it, huh?” Lifting your eyes, you decided instantly that you hated the sympathetic look on Benny’s face.

“I’ll be back at six to pick you up,” he said quietly, slipping out of the door without a goodbye.

You covered your belly with your hands, closing your eyes as you tried not to cry. They were working. You’d seen the paperwork, the legal affairs, the licenses… you’d helped with some of it. That was all it was. They weren’t out satisfying needs with others that they felt they couldn’t with you anymore.

Fishing the positive pregnancy test out of the cupboard, you set it on the bed. If Sam came home with you tonight, you’d let him have the surprise.

At least you were still good for something.


	31. Chapter 31

Benny was in the kitchen when you emerged, dressed and ready. His eyes swept appreciatively over your body, one eyebrow rising slightly above the other. “You look beautiful, cher.” You gave him a small smile of thanks that faded when he pushed a box across the table to you. “Sam asked me to give you this.”

Opening it, your eyes widened, casting over the diamond necklace and delicate drop earrings. Your fingertips grazed the cool metal and you looked up, meeting Benny’s gaze.

“It’s…” Words failed you and Benny shifted, reaching out to take the box back.

“Lemme help you with it,” he offered, lifting the necklace from its cushion. You nodded and turned, watching his hands as they dropped over your head, settling the chain around your throat. It was snug, enough to remind you it was there every time you moved your head. Turning back around, you pressed your hand to the hollow of your throat, feeling the slightly pointed edges of each diamond.

Benny smiled, gesturing to the door as you picked up the earrings. “We should get going.”

The car ride was longer due to traffic and it was growing dark when you arrived. Benny escorted you inside before disappearing off, leaving you at the bar. 

“Can I get you a drink?” a cheery voice asked and you looked around, surprised to see Beka there. She smiled, tilting her head. “Hey, Y/N! We weren’t sure we’d see you again.” Frowning, you stared back at her, unclear on her meaning and Beka kept on smiling, concern in her eyes. “I mean since the old club shut down and then Chrissy, and you getting married -”

“What about Chrissy?” you asked, interrupting her.

The other woman hesitated, glancing around at the slowly filling bar area. “She died,” she said quietly, leaning over the bar. “In prison.” Dread filled you from top to toe and your fingers shook. Beka reached across the bar, taking your hand. “Lemme get you a drink, honey. Whiskey?”

“No,” you replied absently, “soda is fine.”

Beka’s face twisted for a second but you ignored it, managing a smile when she returned with a glass of cold soda. “Y/N -”

“I thought Sam was going to be here,” you muttered, avoiding her eyes.

“He is,” Beka blurted out. “He was, er, dealing with some paperwork, I think.” She was lying and you swallowed, trying not to let your imagination get the better of you. Curling your fingers around the soda, you sipped it, wrinkling your nose at the fizzy bubbles as they coursed down your throat. Your stomach churned with nausea like it had been doing for days.

“Hey, sweetheart,” a slurred voice made you turn just in time for an older gentleman in a suit to plaster himself against your side, “let me buy you somethin’ a little stronger.”

“Senator,” Beka chirped, pouring a large scotch, “this is Y/N Winchester. Sam’s wife.” The man was obviously not drunk enough to be stupid, jumping back from you like he’d been scalded. “Scotch?” Beka offered sweetly.

You slipped down from the stool, ignoring her call of your name as determination made your composure stiffen. Stalking out of the bar area, you looked around, deciding to head for where the corridor opened up into a dark area. It was slightly busier in here and you pushed through the crowds, heading for the opposing entrance.

Six doors lined the larger hallway on the other side, decorated in a similar fashion to the old club and you hesitated, unsure which door to try first. It was clear from the sounds you could hear what these rooms were for and you moved to the first one, pressing your ear against the wooden frame.

Someone was calling another person a dirty little slut in a slightly accented tone and you backed away, deciding that was not the door for you.

Maybe you should just wait. Maybe this was all your head playing tricks on you. The Winchesters had you so twisted around, you didn’t know who you were anymore.

One of the doors opened and a barely dressed woman ran out with a man following her, laughing. They ran past you and for a second, you decided to return to the bar.

Then you heard it. A scream, clearly Sam’s name, coming from the furthest door. A wave of nausea almost took you to your knees as you drew closer, tears brimming in your eyes. You had to see. You had to see what they were doing.

Their hold on you was close to breaking, a single thread of doubt making your hand shake as you reached for the handle.

_ They take what they want when they want. _

_ I don’t wanna be picked out by paparazzi when they find me sticking my dick elsewhere. _

You wished you’d never opened the door.

She was younger than you. Blonde. Her perky little tits bounced as Sam drove into her, her eyes covered with a blindfold similar to the one they’d used on you. She was tied down, bruised in more than one place and Sam was like an animal, slapping her thighs as he fucked her.

Dean was across the room, his hand in the hair of a petite brunette as he fucked her mouth, his head tipped back in pleasure as she sobbed and drooled on his cock.

Why did you open the door?

Sam glanced up through his sweat-slicked hair, irritation on his face for a split second until he realized it was you. His thrusts slowed to a stop and the blonde started to whine in protest. “Sam,” she crooned, “baby, don’t stop!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, pulling away from her. “Y/N -”

You ran.

Tears blinded you as you stumbled away from the door, barely hearing Sam’s almost-roar of your name. Finding the fire exit was easy and you pushed at the bar violently, tripping over your shoes as you fell into the alley. Rain pelted down from the sky, soaking you in a matter of seconds.

Sam was probably already following you, so you kept going, emerging onto the street and turning left, looking for anywhere to hide. Your shoe caught in a grate - you didn’t stop, pushing yourself to keep running, despite feeling like you were going to puke at any second. Glancing back, you didn’t see anyone on the street and you slipped into the next alleyway, tucking yourself behind a dumpster out of sight.

Trying to calm yourself down was hard. You wanted to scream and cry and punch something,  _ god _ , did you want to punch something. But it wouldn’t fix any of this.

You needed to think.

You needed to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

You needed to figure out who you even were anymore.

The rain started to ease and you shivered, lamenting the fact that your purse was still on the bar top. You could have called Claire, or at least the police, but you had nothing except the clothes you wore and the one shoe still clinging to your foot.

Getting to your feet, you whimpered in pain as you realized you’d caught your foot on something sharp. Blood stained your skin and you leaned against the wall for a second before carrying on.

Hiding in the shadows of the run-down apartment block near the alleyway, you glanced around, unsure what to do next. Spotting a squad car parked across the street, you hesitated; you knew your value to the authorities, knew that what you knew could end everything for the Winchester family.

That, at least, would give you time.

Sam would probably go back to the penthouse, find what you’d left on the bed. He’d be furious but maybe the knowledge that you were carrying his child would stop him from having you killed like you were sure he had done with Chrissy.

You just had to get some space. Figure out where to go from here.

And you’d keep repeating that to yourself until you did.

Limping across the street, you made it to the squad car, banging on the window. The overweight patrol officer inside glared at you for a second before he saw the state you were in and unlocked the door. You scrambled inside, relieved to be out of the rain.

“Is everything okay, miss?” he asked, turning to face you.

“No,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “I need help. Please.”

*****

Claire Novak was the detective you’d once aspired to be. When she arrived at the precinct, you’d been a mess, and when Jo appeared with her, it had only sent you into a complete meltdown and exhaustion had forced them to urge you to rest.

The door opened as you slept on, curled on the staff lounge couch with your hands folded underneath your head. Jo had given you some sweats and a t-shirt from the lost and found that said “I love NYC” and was several sizes too large.

Captain Turner lingered by the door a moment, his eyes on you. You must have looked a sight, although you didn’t bother to look in the mirror when you got there. 

The diamond earrings Sam gave you were still in your ears but you’d removed the necklace, breaking the clasp when you did. Your hair was loosened from the style you’d had it in, half a dozen pins sticking out all over. Bandages covered your foot where Claire had dressed it.

“Has she said anything?” he asked, sitting down between the two women at the table.

Jo sighed and shook her head, her fingers playing around the coffee cup. The drink was long since cold. “Nothing. Not a single word. She’s exhausted.” Her eyes drifted to you, her mouth set in a thin line. “This isn’t the Y/N I know. She’s… broken.”

He sighed. “I’d imagine she is. Six months being kept like that?”

“You knew her,” Claire said slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Before all this.”

“Her father was a good friend of mine. A good man.” The captain looked back at you. “Y/N was a promising young detective. I can’t believe this is how she’s ended up.” He placed his hands on his knees, leaning over a little to the younger officer. “At least she can finish the job she started. If she gives a statement, we have the evidence from before… the Winchesters could finally be brought to justice.”

Jo’s mouth set into a thin line. “I don’t know how stable Y/N is gonna be, Rufus,” she whispered. “I mean, what happened after six months to finally make her run away?”

He shrugged. “Beats me. Only way we’ll find out is when she wakes up.”

“She… she’s covered in marks. Bruises. Scars.” Lowering her voice, Claire avoided looking at you. “They carved their initials into her. What kind of sick fuck does that?”

“These are some fucked up boys we’re dealin’ with, sweetheart,” Cpt. Turner murmured, getting to his feet. “But if nothing else, we got them on grievous bodily harm.”

“And if she’s too traumatized to testify?” Jo asked.

The older man shrugged, pausing with his hand on the door. “We’ll call in a psych evaluation. Just to be on the safe side.” With one look back, the captain sighed. “It’s a waste. They should never have sent a rookie in there.”

*****

Nothing was out of range of Sam’s anger. Since returning to the penthouse and checking the bedroom, he’d been going batshit crazy. He’d racked up at least twenty-one years of bad luck in broken mirrors so far and Dean had given up trying to calm his brother down. 

At least he’d stopped screaming.

Finally, Sam picked up the huge black lamp by the door that their mother had bought them, hurling it toward the wall. It shattered on impact, pieces of ceramic raining down onto the hardwood lounge floors. “What the fuck do we do?” he snarled, dropping into a crouch, clawing his hands against his face.

“Well, throwing the hissy fit wasn’t exactly productive,” Dean drawled. “Are you done, now?”

“We have to fix this,” Sam growled, getting to his feet, resuming the next stage of his usual process. Pacing. “It was a stupid mistake. We shouldn’t have -”

“Fucked two hookers because we’re worried about hurting her?” Dean clarified, snorting. “Yeah, getting caught wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t think she’d come look for us.” He shifted on the bar stool, wiping his hand down his face.

Sam groaned leaning into the wall and banging his forehead against it. “We have to fix it.”

Dean looked up sharply at the inflection in his brother’s voice. Sam kept his back to him, leaning his forearms against the plaster, his head hanging. “Fix it. Right.” Shaking his head, Dean got to his feet. “I’m not doing it.”

The younger man’s head jerked up and he frowned at his brother. “Doing what?”

“What we normally do with loose ends?” Dean replied, just as his phone started to ring in his pocket. He glanced down, fishing it out and groaning. “It’s Dad.” Pressing the speaker button to answer, he held the phone up. “You’re on speaker,” he announced, not bothering to greet his father.

“ _ What the fuck have you boys done now? _ ”

John was not happy. Sam met his brother’s eyes, waving him off and storming out of the room. With a sigh, Dean turned his attention to the call.

“ _ You wanna tell me why my guy at the NYPD told me they had Y/N in their custody? What the fuck happened? _ ”

“We’re dealing with it,” Dean growled back, his fingers tightening on the phone.

“ _ Well? What the shit are you doing? Cause it seems to me like you’re sitting on your fucking asses while she could be giving them enough to bring the whole family down!! _ ”

“And I said,” Dean ground out, “we’re fucking dealing with it.”

Sam returned, marching over to his brother and snatching the phone. “This is our problem, we’ll fix it. Enjoy your fucking vacation.” He hung up before John could say anything else, turning his gaze to Dean, slapping something into his palm. “No, we’re not  _ fixing _ it. We’re getting her out.”

Dean stared down at the thin white stick in his hand, the two little blue lines glaring at him. “She… she’s pregnant? But -”

“I found it when we got back,” Sam sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “So no. We’re not putting out the hit.” He stood straight, determination on her face. “Y/N is ours. And she’s coming home.”


	32. Chapter 32

Jo handed you a coffee as you sat hunched on the same couch you’d slept on. The few hours of rest had undoubtedly helped, although you were no closer to a decision on your future. Everything was made so much more complicated by the child now growing in your belly.

Which was something you didn’t inform anyone of. It wasn’t for anyone else but you to decide.

And Jo would be vocal about the problems having a child with the Winchester name would cause.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, meeting your friend's eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Claire contacted Rufus,” Jo explained, sitting next to you. “We came up right away when she thought you were in danger.” You nodded, sipping your drink. “Y/N, we tried contacting you. Your mom’s been out of her mind with worry. It was Rufus’ idea to send in someone you didn’t know.”

Shrugging, you kept your eyes on the floor. “I wasn’t in danger.”

Jo waited, obviously expecting more and when you didn’t speak again, she sighed. “Y/N, we can protect you. You don’t have to be frightened of them anymore.”

“Who said I was frightened?” you muttered, still not looking at her.

The door opened, revealing Claire and Rufus. You lifted your eyes, shame coloring your cheeks as you met Rufus’ gaze. It was almost as bad as looking your father in the face after you’d failed so spectacularly.

“Y/N,” he greeted, sounding a little relieved as he sat down on the chair opposite, leaning his elbows on his knees. Claire hovered by the door, her wary gaze on you. “How you doin’, kid?”

“Fine,” you replied, taking another sip of the coffee before your brain kicked in. Caffeine.

Off the menu.

Placing the cup on the floor as conspicuously as you could, you clasped your hands together as the three officers regarded you. You felt like you were being studied.

Rufus cleared his throat. “We’re arranging for you to go to a safehouse with Jo and Claire until you’re ready to give evidence. That’s what we assumed you’d want to do…” He paused and you looked away, shrugging again. “We can arrange for anything you need - if you need to talk to someone or you need a doctor -”

“I don’t,” you whispered.

Claire stepped forward, still holding her arms across her chest. “Your foot was cut up pretty bad,” she said, watching you carefully. “You probably need a tetanus shot.”

“We have a physician we can get to come to the safehouse,” Rufus leaned forward a little more, “but Y/N, if you need medical assistance with something else… you can just say yes, you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to.”

You fixed your eyes on his. “I don’t,” you repeated firmly.

Rufus exhaled heavily through his nose, recognizing the look on your face that he’d been confronted with many times before. Getting to his feet, he waved at Claire. “Get her to the safehouse. I want updates every thirty minutes.”

“You’re not coming?” Jo asked, frowning.

“No,” he replied, looking back at you. “I’m heading out to Washington with the FBI. They picked up Mary Winchester this morning. Looks like her old man cut her off in the wake of the divorce and she’s looking for payback.”

That caught your attention and you frowned, knowing Mary wouldn’t rat out her sons. But John…

You could definitely see that happening.

“John Winchester will be in custody by tonight,” Rufus continued. “Mary won’t testify against her boys, we expected that.”

“So you’re relying on me,” you realized out loud. “If I won’t testify, you have no case.”

“I’m leaving it to your conscience, Y/N.” His gaze was stern but you stared back in defiance, lifting your chin. “I know you’re a good person. They ruined everything you worked for.” He paused, glancing at Jo as she simmered with barely controlled anger, then back to you. “Wouldn’t you like a little payback?”

*****

Dean stood at the window of the penthouse, looking down at the street below. He was chewing the inside of his cheek again, mostly out of frustration. When the buzzer went, he turned, watching his brother storm out of the room to answer.

Sam hadn’t broken anything else but since they’d got word that their father had been arrested, he’d been sullen and antsy. As far as they knew, their mother had given the FBI everything they wanted but they had nothing to issue a warrant for Sam or Dean.

High heels clicking on the lacquer flooring announced Bela Talbot’s arrival before she walked in. The Winchester family lawyer was ruthless and a complete bitch but she was damn good at her job.

“Hello, Dean,” she greeted, smiling sweetly at him.

“Bela.”

Sam returned, Benny behind him as Bela sat down, lifting one leg to gracefully drape it across the other. “What do we know?” Sam barked, standing opposite her, arms folded across his chest as he tried and failed to intimidate their lawyer. She smiled at him just as falsely as she had Dean, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“She hasn’t talked,” she drawled, “yet.”

“Do we think she will?” Dean asked and Bela shrugged.

“I suppose it depends how much you pissed her off. I know which precinct she was taken to but they’ve moved her to a safehouse. She’s untouchable.”

“She’s safe,” Sam muttered, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what matters.”

Benny shifted, leaning on the back of the couch. “Your mom is being held at an FBI facility in Washington. She’s given them everything.”

“She needs to be dealt with,” Sam growled, only for Dean to grab his arm. “What?”

“Dude, are you thinking straight? You can’t put out a hit on our Mom!”

Multiple emotions played over Sam’s face. He knew killing Mary could possibly come at the cost of Dean’s loyalty and it wasn’t a price he was willing to pay. “I’m not. But we need to keep her quiet.”

Bela cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon,” she interrupted, her tone clipped, “but why?” The brothers looked puzzled for a second and she rolled her eyes, sighing. “You know for such handsome intelligent men, you really are terribly dense.” Getting to her feet, she approached Sam, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Daddy is going to be going away for a very very long time, Sam. Who do you think they’ll leave with responsibility for all his assets? It’s a slam dunk case, as you Americans would say. He’ll have no choice but to sign the company over you.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted as Bela patted down the lapels of his suit jacket, smirking at him.

“Of course, then there’s no need for a legitimate heir.”

Her words made Dean bristle. “No,” he snapped. “You don’t even suggest that.”

Bela turned to him, placing one hand on her hip. “My, my, Dean. Have you become attached?”

“She’s carrying my child,” Sam muttered darkly. “You suggest killing her again and I’ll make sure they don’t find the parts of you I leave intact.”

Genuine fear flashed across Bela’s face and she nodded, smiling with a little less confidence. “I never said a word,” she replied, turning away. “You’re going to have to figure out a way to get her back. At the moment, I imagine she’s feeling pretty vulnerable.”

“We never said anything was exclusive,” Dean grunted and Bela laughed, shaking her head.

“Not you, maybe,” she pointed out, “but Sam married her. No matter which way you spin it, you’ve broken this girl down enough that she’s in love with you. People in love can do spiteful things.” Sitting back down, Bela practically draped herself across the couch, looking at both brothers expectantly. “Now, you need to figure out how to let her know that she’s wanted. Just like any other woman, boys. It doesn’t matter how good you are in the bedroom, she won’t stay loyal to your dicks.”

Benny huffed a laugh, falling silent when Sam glared at him. “Boss,” he started, holding up a hand, “I’ve spent a fair amount of time with the girl. She’s intelligent, funny, she likes to read a lot. And I gotta say, she’s wasted being kept in here all the time.”

“He’s not wrong,” Bela agreed. “How well do you even know her outside of what you’ve dug up in a background search?”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “She likes Star Wars,” he muttered. “And when she was little, she wanted a dog but her mom had allergies.” Sam looked at him in surprise and Dean shrugged, glancing away. “What? She likes to talk. You just needed to stop gagging her.”

“Disney.” The unexpected word from Sam made everyone look at him. “She likes Disney movies. Her favorite at the moment is Moana but she changes it every month.”

Bela smiled, sitting straight. “See? You can be decent men. Now all we have to do is let her know that things are going to change from now on.”


	33. Chapter 33

The safehouse was on the outskirts of the city and the drive there was uncomfortable. Sandwiched between Jo and Claire, it was difficult to disguise the nausea you felt in traveling, so when you arrived, you immediately found the bathroom and locked yourself in.

Jo followed, knocking on the door and calling to ask if you were okay. Your reply of  _ ‘fine’ _ must have satisfied her as she left you alone.

Slotting yourself into the space between the bathtub and the toilet, you curled your arms around your knees, burying your face in your forearms. It hurt to think and you felt exhausted from everything. A few hours sleep on a ratty old couch hadn’t really been much rest and you were missing your comfortable bed at home.

Somewhere in the house, a phone started to ring, cutting off when it was answered. You strained, trying to hear at least some of the conversation but the walls of the old safehouse were thick and yielded nothing. 

This time, it was Claire that knocked on the door. You ignored her, rolling your eyes when she picked the lock and slipped into the small bathroom, closing the door behind her. “It’s probably not a good idea to be alone right now,” she commented, perching herself on the opposite end of the tub to you.

“Actually, I was quite enjoying it,” you mumbled, not bothering to look up.

“Well,” she hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip, “I’m not leaving you alone.” Huffing into your elbow, you lifted your head, glaring at her. “C’mon, Y/N. We’re friends, right?”

“You were pretending,” you accused, narrowing your eyes. “I remember that need to prove yourself, the drive to do the job. That’s all this is to you.” Claire stared back in defiance, her posture stiff and awkward. “You’ve got nothing to offer me.”

The door opened again and Jo stepped in, her phone in her hand. “We can take you home. Back to Philadelphia.” She crouched down, balancing with hand on the top of the toilet, looking at you earnestly. “Y/N, if you wanted to be with them, you wouldn’t have run.”

“I was upset.”

Claire scoffed, shaking her head. “Man, you got it bad.”

Jo flashed the other woman a look before turning her attention back to you. “We know you’re pregnant, Y/N. Do you really wanna go back to that place? Raise a kid there?” You didn’t answer, avoiding her eyes, not voicing the argument that you’d seen the other side of Sam and Dean Winchester. In frustration, Jo slapped her hand onto the toilet lid. “Y/N, you gotta see how crazy this is!”

Her phone started to ring again, Rufus’ name on the screen and you frowned, looking down at it. “Why’s he calling?”

“Check-in,” Jo answered, too quickly, lying to you. 

“You better answer then,” you insisted coolly.

Swallowing, Jo looked down, pressing the button to accept the call. “Hello?” Watching her carefully, you waited, trying to hear the captain on the other end of the phone. “Understood, sir.” She ended the call and glanced at Claire again. “Their lawyer has made contact.”

“Am I going to get any time to myself?” you snapped, glaring at the both of them. “Because I’m kinda in the middle of a crisis and I’d really like to think it over.”

Jo looked back to you. “Bela Talbot has asked to speak with you. You gotta make the decision, Y/N,” she took a breath, her expression stern, “either we take you to into witness protection or we take you back to the station. You could help bring them down, Y/N. Finish the case.”

You didn’t speak, regarding her with a neutral expression. She stared right back, the look in her eyes begging for you to come home. Sliding your attention to Claire, you spoke slowly, making your decision. “You remember that book I gave you?”

“ _ The Call Of The Wild _ ,” she responded, nodding.

“Did you understand? What Buck felt? At the end?”

“I guess so,” the younger woman mumbled. “He gave into the wild animal he was. Ran with the wolves.”

Shaking her head, Jo frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Getting to your feet was difficult - getting soaked the night before and the injury to your foot only enhanced the shakiness you were feeling. Jo rose at the same time, reaching out to help you but you shook her off.

“I’m going home,” you said quietly and for a second, Jo appeared relieved until you looked her in the eye. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped.

“Y/N, you can’t -”

Claire touched her arm, gently. “Jo,” she murmured softly, “she’s made her decision.”

Your old friend looked back to you in dismay. “Y/N…” her tone was almost disgusting and you pushed down the hurt at losing someone else, “they’re monsters.”

With a loose shrug, you moved to the door. “Then I guess I’m a monster too.”

*****

It wasn’t the brothers you met when you returned to the precinct but Bela, who had commandeered a private room to speak to you. “Mrs. Winchester,” she crooned, offering you her hand. You’d met her before on a couple of occasions and you’d never really liked her. “Glad to see you’re well.”

“Where’s Sam?” you asked, as soon as the door was closed.

“He’s waiting outside. I advised him that it would be best for me to speak with you alone first.”

“You gonna threaten me?”

Bela laughed at your cold question, taking a seat on the other side of the only table in the room. “No, of course not. I just want to make sure, as your lawyer, that you haven’t given them any information that wouldn’t be in the family’s favor.”

You shrugged, keeping your spot by the door. “I didn’t say anything, so they’re good. Is that the only reason they gave a shit?”

“No. Sam’s very concerned for your well-being.”

“Because he found the pregnancy test,” you added for her, raising an eyebrow. “Look, I didn’t say anything and I haven’t slept in a proper bed for two days, so I’d kinda like to go home.”

Bela nodded primly, getting to her feet. “In that case, I’ll go and fetch your husband and his brother.” She paused, just a meter or so from you, smiling brightly. “Oh, before I forget, a friend asked me to pass a message on. She said, ‘give them an inch and they’ll take a mile but if you take an inch from Sam, he’ll beg you to take the rest’.”

You pulled your head back, blinking in confusion as Bela held out her hand, a small rectangle of white card in her hand. Taking it, you turned it in your fingers, reading the phone number on the back with a delicately inscribed ‘E’ in silver underneath.

“Men are basic creatures at heart,” Bela murmured, her smirk growing, “and very easily controlled if you learn how.” She disappeared in the next moment and you moved away from the door, holding onto the card. You couldn’t figure out why Elle would send you this - you’d thought she was entirely loyal to Sam.

A few minutes passed and the door opened again, two huge figures cramming themselves through. Turning to face them, you tucked the card into the pocket of your borrow sweats, lifting your chin to look both men in the eyes.

“Y/N,” Sam breathed, relief on his face.

“You relieved because I’m okay or relieved I didn’t talk?” He drew back at your words and you felt a small thrill at his reaction. Stalking forward, you pushed past them into the corridor; both of them stared after you, confused by the way you were acting.

As you crossed the lobby of the small precinct, Jo appeared, blocking your path. You stopped, locking your gaze on hers and she took a breath, clenching her fists at her sides. “Don’t do this, Y/N,” she pleaded, her eyes going over your shoulder.

You could almost feel Sam’s presence behind you.

“I’m gonna see you behind bars,” Jo growled, glaring at the two Winchesters.

Sam sneered unpleasantly at her, stopping by your side. “Threatening me is a really stupid idea,” he snarled back and you sighed, putting yourself between him and the blonde. Instantly, he cooled, looking down at you.

“Can we just go home, please?” Your question was quiet and laden with exhaustion. “I’m done here.”

Without sparing Jo another glance, Sam wrapped his arm around you, leading you out of the precinct, Dean close behind. Jo watched, folding her arms across her chest, trying not to bristle when Captain Turner approached.

“Let it go,” he warned. “We got John on multiple charges. You keep at this and you’ll lose your career.”

“It’s not justice,” Jo seethed, “they brainwashed her.”

Rufus shrugged. “And there’s nothin’ we can do about it, Joanna. Drop it.” There was no room for argument and the petite blonde turned on her heel, storming off. The captain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned to the door, watching you climb into the sleek black sedan parked outside. “I sure hope you know what you’re doin’, kid.”


	34. Chapter 34

You’d been awake for about an hour when Sam knocked on the door of the guest room. Surprised, you called out for him to come in, the sight of him with a tray of breakfast furthering your shock. “Oh.” He smiled, placing the tray on the side.

“You need to eat,” he scolded gently. “I meant what I said about taking care of you.”

Putting the book you’d been reading down, you picked up the tray, placing it on your lap, smiling at the food Sam obviously had not cooked. “Subway?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Sorry. Cooking isn’t my thing.”

“Doesn’t need to be,” you shrugged, picking up a piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. “Hmmm, that tastes really fresh.” Sam looked pleased, watching as you ate slowly. “I didn’t think you’d listen to me when I told you I was sleeping in here.”

“You seemed like you needed space,” he replied cautiously. “Dean thought it would be better to leave you alone.”

You nodded, meeting his eyes. “I needed some time to think.”

“Knock knock,” Dean said, walking in with a fresh set of bandages. “Nurse Dean here to check on your foot.” He dropped the bandages at the bottom of the bed, looking between you and Sam. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” you murmured, “although, nurses should wear little dresses. According to PornHub anyway.” Dean smirked but Sam remained stoic, not taking his eyes off of you for a second. “You don’t have to behave like this.” Neither of them answered, false innocence on their faces. “Look,” you put the tray back on the side, “I’ve been trying to get all this shit straight in my head and it hasn’t been easy. I let…”

Sam shifted and you paused, closing your eyes, knowing you couldn’t face him as you listed his crimes.

“You took everything from me. My life, my career, my family -” you paused, covering your still flat belly with one hand, “and I realized… I’m not weak.” Fixing them with a glare, you lifted your chin in defiance. “But this… this comes with a condition. You probably won’t like it but considering this is your future I’m carrying, you don’t have a choice.”

Dean tilted his head, a dangerous look in his eyes. “An ultimatum?”

“What I saw - it stops. If I belong to you,” you took a breath, “then you belong to me. I know enough to destroy your lives like you destroyed mine,” Sam’s jaw clenched at the threat, “but I don’t want to. I want this. I’m making the choice. I’ll be yours, entirely. If you give me the same respect. I’m not your toy.”

Sam stiffened and you swallowed nervously, unused to issuing the orders. You only had one last thing to say and you needed him to understand it.

“I’m there for whatever you need, even if it’s not my body taking the punishment.”

A smile spread across Dean’s face and he laughed under his breath. “God, you’re really good at making us look like assholes, sweetheart.”

“Well, it’s easy when you are one,” you pointed out, smirking back and he puffed his chest out at the little challenge. Drawing your gaze back to Sam, you reached out, touching his hand. “I want to be yours. I’ve made that choice. But I’m not gonna be a toy, Sam. I’m gonna be what you need.”

Sam swallowed, looking down at your hand. “The doctor -”

“Fuck the doctor,” you interrupted. “It’s my body. I know my limits. And what you’ve given me… you can’t take all that darkness away again.” You tightened your grip on his fingers. “I want to be all that you need. Both of you.”

“And if we can’t?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“You’ll have to decide if it’s worth the risk to stick your dick elsewhere,” you warned, narrowing your eyes, “because I’ll probably take it as a really big insult.” He shivered at that, tapping Sam on the shoulder.

“I kinda like it when she’s bossy,” he murmured.

Sam smirked, turning his hand to hold yours. “Any other requests?” he asked, leaning a little closer. Shaking your head, you smiled, letting him crawl onto the bed and cover your body with his. “Good,” he murmured, “because I’ve missed you, pretty girl,” he dropped a kiss to your jaw, “and I wanna show you how sorry I am.”

Dean appeared beside you in the next minute, the bed dipping under his weight and the covers sliding off of you. He caught your lips in a kiss, one hand covering your bare breast. Sleeping nude had become a habit and you weren’t hating the easy access as Sam slid down the bed, stopping to kiss the spot below your navel.

“How far?” he asked and you shrugged.

“I don’t know. I only found out about twelve hours before you.”

“Why didn’t you call?” Dean asked.

“So you could keep doing what you were doing?” you retorted, growing agitated. “I wanted to tell you in person. It didn’t seem like something that should be done over the phone.” Sam stopped, frowning up at you as you squirmed away, his hands clamping down on your thighs. He lowered his head, dropping a soft kiss to his initials, scarred into your thigh.

“Relax,” he urged, running his thumb over the slightly raised scars, “it won’t happen again.”

Dean chuckled, cupping your cheek to draw your attention back to him. “Not without your permission,” he promised, kissing you again before he brightened. Sam grinned, nuzzling into your increasingly wet pussy, dragging his tongue through your folds.

“He’s just realized what you being pregnant means,” the younger man mumbled, stroking your clit with the tip of his tongue.

A low chuckle from Dean made you smile. “Means I get to feel that sweet little pussy wrapped around my dick again.” You whined, spreading your legs as Sam pushed two fingers inside you. He curled them upward, seeking out the sweet little spot that made your walls clench around the intrusion.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Sam coaxed, working his digits inside you and you gasped, breaking away from Dean’s mouth to look down at Sam’s devilish smile. “You wanna cum?”

“Yes,” you rasped, shuddering as he added a third finger.

“Tell us what you want,” Dean murmured, his mouth against your ear, “exactly what you want right now.”

“Want you both,” you squirmed, trying to get away from Sam’s tongue as the stimulation pushed you to the edge, “want you both inside me.” Sam laughed under his breath, looking up at Dean as the older of the two grinned widely.

“You can cum for us first,” Sam ordered, working his fingers harder and faster inside you. His mouth sealed over your clit, teeth and tongue teasing you until your whole body tensed. With a strangled cry, you grabbed hold of Sam’s hair, tugging hard as you cum on his fingers; he growled in response and sucked at your clit harder.

You collapsed back to the bed without even realizing you’d lifted yourself that far. Before you could recover, Dean was kissing you again, hauling you away from his brother and into his lap.

“When did you take off your pants?” you gasped, grinding down against his bare erection.

“I’m full’a surprises,” he quipped, stroking his cock when you lifted up, giving him space to line the tip of his shaft up with your soaked cunt. Sam climbed off of the bed, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as he headed for the dresser, pausing to look back at you and watch the bliss on your face as you sank down onto Dean’s cock.

You arched, throwing your head back as Dean filled you for the first time in months. His fingers dug into your hips, thumbs framing the curve of your lower belly as he looked up at you.

“Can’t wait until it’s my turn to breed this sweet pussy,” he murmured and you squeezed around him, making him clench his jaw and tip his head back. “Fuck, sweetheart, keep doing that and I’m gonna bust.”

Sam’s return to the bed made the mattress dip and you hummed happily when he pressed up behind you. “Want us both, huh?”

“Yeah.” You tipped your head to the side, giving him access to your throat and Sam instantly buried his face there, biting at the skin until you whined. “Sam -” He paused, one hand tangled in your messy hair. “I need it,” you pleaded and he nodded.

“You’ll get it,” he dragged his teeth over your pulse point, “after. We’ll go back to our room.” Warmth filled your belly and Sam encouraged you to move, guiding your actions as you rode his brother. Dean grunted like an animal, his cock twitching inside you with each stroke. “Dean’s ready to pop, baby. He’s missed your cunt so much.”

You sank your teeth into your lip as you looked down, watching the pleasure twist Dean’s face. His teeth were bared, jaw clenched and throat strained as he lost himself in you. Sam pulled back, grabbing the bottle of lube he’d grabbed from the dresser.

One click and second later you felt cool liquid press over your asshole, Sam’s index finger dipping into you with a shallow thrust. You relaxed, pressing back against him, desperate to be filled by both thick Winchester cocks.

“Always so impatient,” he chided. “We’ll have to punish you for that later.”

“Fuck me, Sam,” you ordered, glancing back over your shoulder at him, too needy to care about the rules. “Wanna feel both of you inside me.”

He chuckled, smothering his shaft with the gel, stroking it before placing one hand on your back. “Lean forward.” You obeyed, hearing his groan at the sight of your stuffed pussy. “Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to stretch out that cunt.”

“Then do it,” you whimpered, the words almost obscured by Dean’s greedy mouth. “I can take it.”

Sam’s hand spread your ass cheeks. “You want us both in your pussy, pretty girl?” You nodded and moaned, feeling his finger slid in beside his brother’s dick. Dean groaned loudly, arching his back as Sam’s touch increased the pressure around his shaft. “Oh, fuck, that’s tight.”

“Want it,” you begged, arousal spiraling at the thought of both of them, stretching you out until you were ruined for anyone but them. Logically, you knew that wasn’t how it worked but when you were drowning in hormones, the only thing you could think was a mantra of ‘fuck me fuck me fuck me’ with barely a breath in between.

Sam pulled his finger free, lining up his slick cock with his brothers. The first thrust met resistance and he retracted, trying again. This time, your body relaxed to accommodate him and for a moment there was nothing.

Fire flooded your veins as Sam’s cock slipped in beside Dean’s, the stretch painful and pleasurable agony in one tight compact ball that throbbed in your belly. You were so full, so stuffed, you could hardly draw a breath as your heart raced.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean hissed. “Jesus, fuck, that’s fucking tight.” His fingertips were bruising your hips now and the high that each bright spot of pain caused was intense. You closed your eyes, your forehead resting against Dean’s chest, feeling his heartbeat almost in sync with yours.

Sam moved and you gasped, clenching hard enough to force twin moans from the brothers. Dean’s body was shaking with restraint and Sam wasn’t far behind, all three of you panting heavily. They started to rock slowly, building up a rhythm and you lost all sense of reality, letting Dean hold you against his chest as they fucked you in tandem.

At some point, you were sure you’d passed out and it felt like hours pinned between them. When Dean got close, he kissed you, licking into your mouth desperately. “You’re ours,” he repeated, sliding one hand through your hair.

He came in the next second, triggering your third climax and Sam’s knees buckled, dragged along with both of you. His arms shook and he tried to hold himself up, failing miserably and pulling away, the last few spurts of cum splattering across your lower back.

None of you spoke for a moment and you curled into Dean’s chest, a contented smile on your face as he stroked your hair. Sam was already cleaning up, tossing his t-shirt at you and Dean with a grin. “Come on. About time we gave you what you really want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was a wild ride to write and to re-read when I started posting here. And it’s not over (yeah, there’s a sequel coming). I’d like to thank my betas, @winchesterprincessbride, @crispychrissy, @saxxxology - you girls are the best. Thanks also to everyone who has commented, reblogged, liked, shared, given kudos; literally, your excitement during the course of this journey has been inspiring. Hence the sequel >.< anyway, I hope you enjoy this ending!!


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